Mysterious arrests rekindle fears of Syrians

Thousands of Syrians are living in a state of continuous anxiety, following the transitional government's wave of arrests targeting civilians and former military personnel without any official explanation, in a scene that brings back memories of the previous Ba'athist regime's practices.

The residents recount in this report to ANHA agency what they are experiencing, preferring not to disclose their names for security reasons. These testimonies reflect the extent of the accumulated suffering and how waiting for any information about the missing has turned into a harsh test that burdens entire families.

Scene One: Houses half empty... and the other half waiting

In one of the neighborhoods of the Damascus countryside, a mother of three stands in front of her house. She moved a piece of cloth with her hands in vain, and said in a choked voice: "He was arrested six months ago... we don't know where he is or even if he is alive." "My son didn't carry a weapon... he was just going to work."

Another woman says, "We live every day as if walking on embers... we just want to know where they are."

The same scene is repeated in dozens of villages and towns: sudden arrests without warrants, complete deprivation of visits, and preventing families from knowing the place of detention or the responsible authority, as recounted by the locals.

Scene Two: An Unhealed Memory Before and After the Fall of the Regime

In the early days of the fall of the Ba'athist regime, the fate of hundreds of the missing was divided between those killed and those detained in the prisons of "Hay'at Tahrir al-Sham" in the areas under its control, and those who remain missing and have not been found to this day.

As one of the survivors from that period recounts, in a low voice: "We were a group of 27 people, both military and civilians... only seven came out alive." Many were arrested, and no one knows who among them is still alive.

And despite the passing of months and years, the families are still searching for the slightest piece of information, or a witness who might have seen a familiar face behind the door of a cell.

Scene Three: Lack of Transparency... and Growing Concerns

What exacerbates the concerns today is that the new arrests are being carried out in a manner similar to what the Syrians have previously experienced: detention without official announcement, transfer to unknown locations, and prohibition of visits, all amidst a complete absence of any legal clarification.

For its part, local human rights organizations warned that this secrecy creates a "fertile ground for violations," and called on the transitional government to disclose detention locations, allow family or monitoring visits, ensure detainees receive fair trials, and reveal the fate of those missing since the fall of the regime. However, there has been no official response so far.

Scene Four: The Residents in a Battle Against Silence

In another house, a fifty-something father places a picture of his son on the table. He stares at it for a long time before saying, "I don't want anything from this world... just a word, alive or dead?"

Tears overcame his words, then he added: "We live between fear and hope... fear that his fate might be sealed, and hope that he is somewhere listening to us now."

In another village, the families of the missing gather in a small room, exchanging news and rumors, compiling the names of those who have disappeared, trying to determine the last place they were seen... As if they are building an incomplete map searching for a door that can be opened.

Scene Five: The Missing Truth... and the Suspended Fate

The facts on the ground indicate a state of complete ambiguity. Neither the authorities announce anything, nor do the families possess any information, nor are the organizations able to enter the detention facilities. Without transparency, every hour of waiting becomes heavy, and every day of absence resembles the others, as if time has stopped at the moment of the children's disappearance.

An elderly woman summarizes the tragedy in one phrase: "Prisons do not only kill those inside them... they also kill those waiting outside."

With all these testimonies, one question remains above all others, haunting the families of the detainees and the missing: How long will the fate of these people remain unknown between the prisons of the past and the prisons of the present? And unless the closed doors are opened, and the minimum level of justice is achieved, will Syrians continue to live in a cycle where pain is repeated, and the gap between the people and the authority widens, between the mother and her child, and between truth and absence?

ANHA