What justice do we want?

When the transitional government was formed under President Ahmad al-Sharaa, it presented itself as the beginning of a “return of the state” after decades of despotism, war and institutional collapse. It may seem self-evident that security, public services and sovereignty must come first in a country exhausted by fragmentation, arms proliferation and economic ruin. Yet the region’s harsher lessons teach us that stability untethered to genuine fairness and real legitimacy is often fleeting — a truce perched atop social embers waiting to reignite.

To its credit, the interim authorities acknowledged early on that justice is not a luxury. They established transitional justice and missing persons commissions, formed investigative committees into violence in the coastal regions and in Suwayda, spoke of a draft transitional justice law, and initiated trials for several individuals accused of violence along the coast. These are important signals. They tell Syrians: the state sees, the state hears, the state recognises that there is a heavy legacy to address.

But signals are not enough. The file now stands at a crossroads. Transitional justice can become a lever for building institutions — or it can remain a political slogan lacking inclusivity and transparency, depriving the government of the one asset it most needs in a transitional phase: public trust.

As defined by the United Nations, transitional justice encompasses the full range of processes and mechanisms a society employs to confront a legacy of widespread abuses, in order to achieve accountability, justice and reconciliation, and to prevent recurrence. It is not merely a court, nor solely a truth commission, but a comprehensive package — a holistic orientation.

That definition is particularly salient for Syria. It presents the new government with a delicate equation: there can be no national legitimacy without acknowledging the victims of the past; no prevention of revenge without clear and fair judicial procedures that convince citizens their rights will not be lost; no protection of the country’s diverse communities without a state discourse that rejects collective punishment and criminalises incitement.

Hence the warnings issued by Syrian human rights and civil actors — even if one might dispute the tone of some of their statements. In a recent civil declaration cautioning against a slide into communal violence, signatories insisted that “there is no peace without justice”, called for an independent Syrian body, warned of financial settlements and “reconciliations” that spare the powerful while crushing the powerless, and urged confrontation of hate speech and the logic of retribution.

One strength of the new leadership is its executive capacity. It is a former opposition now in possession of institutions, functioning ministries and international partners. The formation of a transitional cabinet with religious and ethnic diversity sent a message at home and abroad that representation matters — even if, in the eyes of many, it remains incomplete.

But the weaknesses are not marginal.

The first is the danger of selectivity. Syrian and international rights organisations have warned that any justice process that confines abuses to one side, or one period, will be read as a political instrument rather than a national pathway. Selectivity reassures one constituency while terrifying another. It does not build a state.

The second is the gap in transparency and chain-of-command responsibility. Even when investigations are announced, the crucial question persists: who is held accountable? Are “rogue elements” always to blame, or is the chain of command examined as well? Here lies the true test of a modern state — not the arrest of foot soldiers alone, but the scrutiny of leadership responsibility.

These criticisms should be seen as an opportunity to strengthen the government’s course. A leadership that corrects its trajectory before errors accumulate earns both political and moral capital.

If Damascus truly wishes to make transitional justice part of its project of “restoring the state”, there are practical steps — less politically costly than assumed — with far-reaching impact.

First, declare an unambiguous principle: no collective punishment, no vengeance. A clear state discourse that criminalises incitement, places the protection of all citizens above factional calculation, and affirms that sectarian or regional affiliation is no presumption of guilt. The United Nations has repeatedly documented how hate speech fuels violence; the Syrian state must not allow it to become the language of the street.

Second, broaden the concept of “victims” and “time” within the justice process. Accountability for the crimes of the former regime is a duty. But ignoring subsequent abuses, or those committed by other actors, merely produces a new injustice. Comprehensive justice means the state does not close one eye while opening another.

Third, ensure genuine independence for the transitional justice and missing persons bodies. Independence requires transparent selection criteria, witness protection, clear mandates and regular publication of findings. Each step in this direction reduces the marketplace of rumour and increases society’s willingness to believe the state.

Fourth, reform the security and judicial institutions. Transitional justice is also about non-recurrence. Training, codes of conduct, internal oversight and accountability for violations committed in the enforcement of law: all of this protects the government from its opponents before it protects citizens from the state.

Fifth, pursue smart partnership with civil society rather than confrontation. Instead of treating NGO statements as threats, the government could turn them into feedback channels, advisory seats and documentation mechanisms.

To support the new Syrian government is not to varnish reality or deny fears. It is to reinforce what can strengthen the state and prevent a return to war: rule of law, justice not wielded as a political weapon, and balanced recognition of Syrians’ diverse suffering.

The government still possesses a narrow window of opportunity. Many remain willing to grant it a chance because the alternatives Syrians have already endured — fragmentation, warlordism, de facto mini-states — are far worse. But that window closes swiftly when justice is perceived as “for us” rather than “for all”.

Between “state aura” and legitimacy, it is legitimacy that endures.