Abdulrahman Matar
2026 / 9 / 11
After years of oppression that forced fingers to carve names on iron doors before disappearing into oblivion, the letters carved on the prison cell doors seemed to be crying out at the top of their lungs, urging passersby to turn their attention to them on their adventure of emerging into the light. But were the images they formed in hearts that paused before their sound truly just passing through?
Before the incident of the girl discovering the name of her brother (who had disappeared after entering the Assad regime’s prisons) on a cell door from Branch 248 at the Damascus International Fair, I used to condemn the very idea of bringing a prison cell door to a public exhibition. I considered it a tampering, not only with forensic evidence, but also with the national memory which has become rich and abundant with the stories of those who were locked behind those doors. Their fates were divided between survival, death, and disappearance for more than half a century in prisons and security intelligence branches across the length and breadth of the country.
I will admit that my stance shifted slightly after a series of stories emerged of people discovering the names of their missing loved ones on that same rusty iron cell door. Pain mingled with hope resurfaced, reviving the image of Syrians still searching for their children nearly two years after the prisons were breached and their doors opened.
However, I continue to be concerned about the performance of the authorities responsible for protecting places of detention and enforced disappearance, particularly regarding the irresponsible actions, perhaps, such as those currently being discussed concerning Mezzeh Military Airport where the crimes committed are no less egregious than those committed in Tadmor, Sednaya, and other prisons.
How does one prepare for the shock of discovering the names of missing loved ones like Anas Awad, Zuhair, Muhammad Matar, Fadi, Furat, and Khalil, and the fate that befell them, alongside the names of cities and towns like Daraa, Masyaf, and Khan Sheikhoun inscribed on doors to bear witness long after the fingers that carved them had disappeared.
This brings to mind the more recent cries of that grieving mother in Raqqa who raised her voice, demanding to know the fate of her son who was arrested by the SDF, during the meeting of the National Commission for Transitional Justice last week. Between then and now lie thousands of stories of enforced disappearances of Syrians between 2011 and 2024, their files still open with unanswered questions.
But the strength and clarity of the voice drew its enduring brilliance from the public sphere, which witnessed a significant shift with Mazloum Abdi‘s announcement of the dissolution of the SDF. This announcement opened the floodgates to pressing questions on two key issues related to transitional justice.
The first concerns the crimes committed by the SDF during its control over areas west and east of the Euphrates, and its administration of these regions through de facto authorities, known at the time as the “Autonomous Administration.”
The second issue is determining the fate of the missing, including detainees held by ISIS and those held by the SDF, among them individuals detained for years without trial´-or-public acknowledgment, in SDF prisons before being transferred to Iraq.
The leadership of the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), both before and after the defeat of ISIS, bears full legal responsibility for the missing person’s file. This is because they were the sole authority that established control over all areas from which ISIS withdrew, particularly security and military sites, as well as civilian institutions. Unlike the events of the first hours following the flight of the Damascus dictator, when people rushed to prisons and detention centers, threw open their gates, and freed the detainees, no civilians´-or-armed factions that had been fighting ISIS´-or-the Assad regime managed to reach these areas.
What reinforces these legitimate questions is the growing conviction within Syria that ignoring such files will lead to problems that could become more complex and intractable. This explains the initiative launched by the National Commission for Transitional Justice to engage with the public and listen to their questions and demands, even if it does not possess any answers at the moment.
Opening the door to public debate in Raqqa is vital because it cannot be closed in the future without achieving concrete results. This is based on a critical fact: the sheer scale of the crimes that have plagued Raqqa, from the Assad regime to armed organizations, to ISIS, and up to the SDF. All of these entities shared the characteristics of terrorist practices against civilians. In this respect, Raqqa serves as an essential model for what occurred in Hasakah, Deir ez-Zor, and the Aleppo countryside, and justice must not be “selective´-or-superficial” in any way.
The Vision of Power and the Path to Justice
“The calculations of those in power are not always the calculations of the people” is an old saying that aptly captures the gap between Damascus and the demands of communities in Syria’s Jazeera region over the SDF, its policies, alleged abuses, legacy, obligations, and the terms of its integration.
It took nearly a year and a half to reach the point of dissolving the “Syrian Democratic Forces,” and this would not have been possible without intense and compelling American-Turkish efforts. The same oppression is still being experienced by the Syrian Jazeera region, which today sees former SDF leaders in a position of partnership and leadership alongside the new national authority under a fundamental factor: prioritizing political reconciliation over the national will for accountability and prosecution for the “crimes against humanity” committed by these leaders over the past ten bitter years!
The question of the central authority’s ambiguous policies regarding this issue extends beyond mere questioning. It encompasses other matters, including the weapons possessed by members of the SDF and its affiliated militias, the tunnels they have dug that collectively threaten the lives of people in the cities and towns, and the integration processæ which effectively absorbs SDF combatants into state institutions while excluding deserving residents of the region. All of this occurs within the context of settlements that extend to war criminals who have now become partners in decision-making.
In reality, citizens today receive no answers from the authorities. They live in a state of anxiety and apprehension, even as they witness the entry of security forces into Hasakah and other areas. While this is undoubtedly a very positive development, protecting the region’s future from any tension that could, over time, lead to an explosion is crucial. But this cannot be achieved while ignoring the demands of the people and victims for justice, without which there can be no stability. The absence of the mechanisms for achieving justice, and the prevalence of selectivity, cannot deliver true justice to the victims´-or--restore- their rights-;- instead, they add new injustice, oppression, and bitterness that not even the Euphrates River would be able to swallow!
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