As Syria approaches the first anniversary of its liberation from decades of authoritarian rule, the nation stands at a crossroads, wrestling with its painful past and the daunting challenges of forging a new future. Once a vital crossroads between East and West, Syria’s story is now being rewritten by a government striving to balance justice for its people with the demands of international diplomacy and economic recovery.
In mid-November 2025, Syrian Foreign Minister Assad Al-Shaibani arrived in London, marking a significant milestone: the reopening of the Syrian Embassy, shuttered since 2012 after the Houla Massacre. The event was more than diplomatic symbolism. For the first time in years, Syrians in the UK gathered freely to question a government official without fear or permission, a small but meaningful victory for a community long silenced by war and repression. Al-Shaibani’s whirlwind journey—from Washington DC to Damascus and then London in just 48 hours—did not go unnoticed. His presence at the launch of the Syrian British Business Council, where he spoke candidly with business leaders about investing in Syria’s reconstruction, signaled a government eager for engagement and investment.
“There is clearly a level of goodwill here that the new government will be afforded,” one observer remarked, reflecting a sentiment echoed by many in the diaspora. The pride felt by Syrians at seeing their embassy reopened was palpable, a sign that the world might finally be taking the new Syria seriously.
At the heart of these changes stands President Ahmed Al-Sharaa, a man tasked with the near-impossible: rebuilding a nation devastated by nearly fifteen years of civil war, endemic corruption, and the legacy of the Assad family’s half-century rule. Al-Sharaa’s diplomatic efforts have been nothing short of historic. In September, his speech at the United Nations General Assembly was warmly received, and soon after, he became the first Syrian president since 1946 to visit the White House. There, he lobbied for the removal of crippling US sanctions—including the notorious Caesar Act—convincing both President Donald Trump and a wary US Congress to ease restrictions.
Al-Sharaa’s personal removal from UN, US, and British sanctions lists now allows him to travel freely, an asset he’s used to Syria’s advantage. His ability to win over skeptical foreign policy figures—despite a past marred by associations with extremist groups—has surprised many. As one commentator put it, “Al-Sharaa’s charm and charisma have been well utilised to good effect.” Images of him playing basketball with a US CentCom commander would have been unthinkable just a year ago.
Yet, not all of Al-Sharaa’s moves have been universally welcomed. Shortly after his UN appearance, he traveled to Russia to affirm Syria’s commitment to existing agreements, including continued Russian access to the naval port at Tartous. While some in Syria viewed the trip as pragmatic—recognizing the reality of power politics—others felt uneasy about maintaining ties with a state that had supported Assad’s brutal crackdown and conducted airstrikes on Syrian soil, including in Idlib, the region Al-Sharaa once led. Still, the new government’s outreach to all five permanent members of the UN Security Council, including a recent visit by Al-Shaibani to China to discuss reconstruction, underscores Syria’s attempt to chart an independent, multipolar foreign policy.
But for many Syrians, grand diplomatic gestures mean little without justice for the horrors of the past. In Damascus, the Caesar Families Association meets weekly, offering support to families whose loved ones disappeared into Assad’s notorious prison system. The pain is raw and ever-present. Ziad and Ghina Sabagh’s son Mohammed vanished twelve years ago—one of more than 300,000 Syrians missing since the 1970s. Only after Assad’s fall did they discover a photo of Mohammed’s tortured body among the 54,000 images leaked in 2014 by a whistleblower known as ‘Caesar.’ “We asked everywhere about him, in all the [security] branches. No one answered,” Ziad recalled. Ghina added, “There is awareness. But the government must be faster … The state must find justice for all the detainees. And we will not be silent, for the sake of our children’s blood.”
The Caesar Files, documenting 6,786 deaths in detention, shocked the world and led to the imposition of the Caesar Act in 2019. Now, with the regime gone and the files widely available, families like the Sabaghs can finally seek answers—but the process is painfully slow. In May, President Al-Sharaa established two commissions to investigate transitional justice and missing persons. Yet, with limited resources and the sheer scale of the tragedy, most families know they face a long wait for closure.
“We don’t care about money. We want to know who killed our children, and justice. Money won’t bring my son back,” Ghina said, echoing the sentiments of many. For Huda Sabahieh, whose husband was detained and killed in 2014, the struggle is also economic. “They [the former regime] gave support to the wives of regime soldiers. Now we have nothing, and we have been waiting for a year. I have to pay $100 a month in rent, but I am not rich.”
The legacy of fear and betrayal still haunts Syrian society. Lina and Mohammed Shamout lost their son Thaer after being arrested in 2013 on the flimsiest of accusations. Lina recounted, “They tortured my husband in front of me. They attacked me and beat me with a stick. They said, ‘If you don’t speak, we will bring your daughter here and torture her in front of you.’” Even now, the official who detained their son lives nearby. “I see my son’s killer walking in the street. We know the people who did this to us,” Mohammed said, his sense of injustice undimmed.
Internationally, the easing of sanctions offers hope for economic recovery, but it is tempered by uncertainty. On November 10, 2025, the US announced new sanctions relief, granting waivers for 180 days. Permanent repeal, however, still requires Congressional approval. Some see this as a lifeline for the battered Syrian economy; others fear it could undermine the quest for accountability.
Human rights advocates warn that justice cannot wait. “Transitional justice serves as the optimal approach to achieving comprehensive recovery from the consequences of the conflict and … to ensure lasting stability,” said Fadel Abdulghany of the Syrian Network for Human Rights. With Syria still riven by sectarian violence and deep mistrust—especially among minorities wary of the new Islamist government—delayed justice risks fueling cycles of revenge and instability.
Meanwhile, unresolved issues persist. Israeli strikes in southern Syria continue to test the government’s resolve, and the delicate act of balancing relations with global powers remains fraught with risk. Yet, as Syria transitions toward democracy, strengthens the rule of law, and seeks to build an independent judiciary, its leaders—buoyed by cautious goodwill at home and abroad—are determined to forge a new path.
For families like the Sabaghs and Shamouts, the journey to justice is far from over. But in the embassies reopened, the commissions established, and the voices finally raised, there are signs—however tentative—that Syria is beginning to reckon with its past and look to the future with a fragile sense of hope.