The Transitional Justice gamble
How Ahmad al-Sharaa can dismantle Assadism for good

The urgency of advancing transitional justice became starkly evident in early June, when an amnesty included dozens of former regime soldiers and well-known figures accused of war crimes and crimes against humanity. The decision has triggered widespread anger and a surge in revenge killings, deepening mistrust and hostility among Syria’s fractured identity groups.

Attacks also target government forces and individuals perceived to be aligned with the new authorities. Civilians, whether deliberately targeted or simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, are being killed as well. On 12 June a jeep with Idlib license plates was attacked in Latakia, resulting in the deaths of a mother and her children. The incident has reignited horrific memories of earlier phases of the war, when highways were hunting grounds for shabiha (‘ghosts’) — a term still widely associated in Sunni narratives with Alawite paramilitary gangs and, by extension, with Alawite identity. 

In an attempt to ease tensions, Hassan Soufan, a leader of Ahrar al-Sham and member of the transitional government’s civil peace committee, held a press conference on 10 June. He insisted that those released under the amnesty were not implicated in war crimes, and called for patience, arguing that pragmatic compromises are necessary to preserve stability while a more comprehensive transitional justice process takes shape. But his message has largely fallen flat. For many Syrians, the amnesty is seen not as a gesture of reconciliation, but as a symbol of impunity, forged through murky political bargaining. Perhaps the clearest illustration of their point is the case of Fadi Saqr — a former National Defence Forces commander and widely acknowledged war criminal. Not only was he spared prosecution, but he reportedly played a role in mediating the amnesty and is involved with the civil peace committee in a non-transparent and unofficial capacity.

In this volatile situation, the National Authority for Transitional Justice must deliver — both in process and in outcomes. When transitional president Ahmed al-Sharaa signed Decree No. 20 on 17 May formally to establish the Authority, it marked the beginning of what could be a defining chapter in Syria’s post-war stabilisation and nation-building effort. The hope is that the Authority becomes more than a symbolic body and instead helps Syrians confront the wreckage of the past decades, rebuild trust, and lay the groundwork for a new kind of social and political culture. 

If this process gains traction, it could be the beginning of a new Syrian state that genuinely breaks with the Assad regime’s legacy. If it doesn’t, the transitional government may find its legitimacy eroding before it’s even consolidated.

Process matters
The Authority’s early structure has already drawn fire from rights groups. Critics, including the International Center for Transitional Justice and Human Rights Watch, have pointed out that the body’s current mandate focuses solely on crimes committed by the Assad regime. There’s also concern about the lack of clarity around how victims will be included meaningfully. These are serious issues. If the body is seen as little more than a tool for selective retribution, it risks alienating segments of Syrian society while perpetuating the deliberate impunity that the Assad clan cultivated and exploited.

Still, there are reasons not to rush to judgment. The Authority has until the end of June to define its terms of reference. That means the scope outlined in the decree isn’t necessarily the final word. If the Authority’s chairman, defected police chief Abdel Basset Abdel Latif, shows openness for broader civil society participation, it might yet grow into an inclusive institution that creates societal and political momentum. A discreet meeting Abdel Latif held on 3 June with a small number of civil society representatives could be read as an early indication of such openness. But the quiet outreach to already privileged organisations also risks reinforcing longstanding patterns of gatekeeping and competition — dynamics that have long hindered Syrian civil society. For the process to succeed, it must cast a wide net.

Transitional justice isn’t just about prosecutions. It’s also about memory, storytelling, reparations, forgiveness, and creating a culture where speaking openly about the past is possible and safe. Syrian civil society has a critical role to play, not only in mapping out a future process but also in interrogating how some of its own institutions have mirrored the exclusionary tendencies they sought to replace. Participation should extend beyond the traditional circle of legal and human rights NGOs. Community-based organisations, cultural practitioners, faith leaders, mental health professionals and international partners — many of whom hold crucial archives and expertise — can offer perspectives that reflect the country’s diversity and help form a coalition broad enough to shape a process that speaks to Syria’s diverse and fragmented society.

Dangerous taboos
Without political backing, however, even the best-designed process will struggle. This brings the focus to Sharaa. If the transitional government fails to provide resources and, more importantly, political space for the Authority to operate independently, then transitional justice will be hard to achieve. A particular phenomenon that requires attention is a near-total silence around violations committed by factions aligned with the current government — including Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), the Syrian National Army, but also the SDF, and Sharaa himself.

That silence may feel politically convenient and even sustainable in the short term. Many Syrians today are understandably focused on economic relief and basic security. But over the long run, reconciliation attempts that avoid uncomfortable truths tend to fall apart. While the vast majority of crimes were committed by the Assad regime, a justice process that ignores entire categories of violence cannot extinguish the embers of war and oppression. History shows those embers have a way of reigniting.

Sharaa’s opportunity
Breaking with the Assadist model will require a different way of relating to power, one that doesn’t treat accountability as a threat. Here, Sharaa has a rare opportunity. He has spoken publicly about personal change over the course of the war, and about the importance of accountability. If he is serious about those principles, then the coming months are the time to demonstrate it. A leader who acknowledges his own past — including the violence committed by groups he once led — and who asks forgiveness would be unprecedented in Syrian political life.

That doesn’t necessarily mean HTS must face legal prosecution. Syrians need to find their own way toward transitional justice. But that process would benefit from an honest conversation about how the Assad regime’s totalitarian essence entrenched violence and injustice through militarisation and brutalisation — and how those patterns affected everyone, no matter which side they fought on. Syrians will have to wrestle with complex questions. What kind of violations demand legal accountability? When is amnesty appropriate? And how central should forgiveness be in shaping what comes next?

Reconciliation is not possible without some measure of forgiveness. In turn, forgiveness depends on truth, and a culture in which asking for it is not seen as weak but responsible, and granting it is not seen as an act of power but an act of humanity. As the late activist Raed Fares once put it, the real challenge has not only been removing Assad from power. It’s also removing “the little Assad” that the regime has installed in Syrians — the cultural and institutional practices shaped under decades of totalitarian dictatorship that normalised violence and impunity in society at large.

Al-Sharaa has the means to topple Assad not only militarily, but also to challenge the legacy Assad left imprinted on the national psyche. It would be the completion of a just war.