Category: Statements

As Syria seeks, during its transitional period, to rebuild its institutions and policies, the regulation of property transfers has once again moved to the forefront of public debate. After years in which the sale and transfer of real estate were tied to obtaining security approval, the Ministry of Finance issued Circular No. 135 on 30 July 2025. The circular abolished, at least in name, the requirement to obtain “security approval” in order to receive a financial clearance certificate, replacing it with a “No Objection to Completing the Real Estate Transaction” document valid for three months.

However, changing the name does not resolve the question of the nature of the new procedure. Available official information confirms that the Ministry of Interior and lists of persons barred from disposing of property remain part of the vetting system, and that the “No Objection” document is issued through what official bodies call the “Security Approvals Platform.” At the same time, there is insufficient publicly available information about the database on which the platform relies, the criteria used to determine who is prohibited from disposing of property, the authority responsible for issuing a refusal, or the procedure for challenging such a decision.

The issue, therefore, is not simply whether the “No Objection” document is a new name for the old security approval. Rather, it is that the right to dispose of property continues to be subject to prior administrative authorization, while the rules governing that authorization, the safeguards surrounding it, and the extent of security agencies’ involvement remain unclear.

From the Legacy of Security Approvals to the “No Objection” Document

Under the Assad regime, the use of security approvals gradually expanded to cover a range of civil and real estate transactions. In 2015, prior security approval was imposed on real estate sales and the transfer of commercial premises in both formally planned and unplanned areas. In practice, the completion of a lawful transaction became contingent on a security decision based on no published criteria and subject to no clear avenue of appeal. This transformed security approval into a tool for restricting citizens’ ability—particularly that of political opponents, wanted persons, and displaced Syrians—to manage and dispose of their property.

After the fall of the regime, real estate transactions did not immediately move to a civilian system free from security vetting. The Ministry of Finance suspended the issuance of the financial clearance certificates required for property transfers. It then issued Circular No. 87 in June 2025, justifying the suspension on the grounds of concerns that officials and persons implicated with the former regime might transfer or conceal their assets. The circular stated that the Ministry of Interior had prepared lists of individuals, as well as some of their relatives, who were barred from conducting transactions, and that the resumption of financial clearance certificates would exclude those whose names appeared on these lists.

Circular No. 135 subsequently announced the abolition of “security approval” as a prerequisite for obtaining a financial clearance certificate and replaced it with the “No Objection” document. The General Commission for Taxes and Fees explained that the document is required for a broad range of transactions, including sales, gifts, exchanges, inheritance transfers, certain powers of attorney, and the establishment of companies, and that it is issued through the Security Approvals Platform and remains valid for three months.

These facts make it difficult to treat the “No Objection” document as a purely financial procedure. At the same time, however, they are insufficient to establish that the platform uses the same security database employed by the Assad regime, or that the current criteria for refusal are identical to the former criteria of political persecution. This distinction matters: institutional and procedural similarities raise serious questions, but they are not a substitute for evidence.

What Do We Know About the Current Vetting Process?

In June 2026, the Ministry of Interior announced that its “Information Department,” in cooperation with other government bodies, had completed the review and verification of more than 850,000 records related to property-transfer procedures. It also stated that the department had completed missing information in the central databases of the former regime, lifted restrictions and prohibitory annotations affecting a large number of individuals, and narrowed the list of persons barred from disposing of property to those “subject to procedural measures.”

This announcement provides an important piece of information that was not clear when Circular No. 135 was issued: the Ministry of Interior is not removed from the property-transfer process. Rather, a department within the Ministry reviews data and restrictions connected to property transfers, and a list of persons barred from disposing of property exists and is being updated. Yet the announcement does not answer the central questions: What does “subject to procedural measures” mean? What is the legal basis for placing an individual on the list? Is the restriction based on a court judgment or judicial order, or on an administrative decision? What data does the Information Department rely on? And can an individual learn why they have been restricted and challenge that restriction before an independent body?

The absence of this information is not merely a technical issue. During 2026, cases emerged in which “No Objection” documents were delayed for months, as well as cases in which applicants were instructed to report to Internal Security before completing a sale. In the absence of a publicly announced and binding time limit for deciding applications, written reasons for refusals, and a clear appeals process, the procedure can become a practical obstacle to the exercise of property rights—even where its stated objective is legitimate, such as preventing individuals implicated in crimes or corruption from transferring or concealing assets.

Property Rights Cannot Be Protected Through Opacity

The 2025 Constitutional Declaration provides that private property is protected, guarantees the right to litigation and appeal, and prohibits administrative decisions from being insulated from judicial review. Most importantly, Article 48 requires the state to abolish the exceptional security measures relating to civil and real estate documents that were used by the former regime to repress Syrians.

This does not automatically mean that every vetting process involving the Ministry of Interior is unconstitutional. The state may have a legitimate interest in freezing the assets of particular individuals or preventing the transfer of property that is under investigation or subject to dispute. But such restrictions must have a clear legal basis, be specific and proportionate, provide the affected person with the reasons for the restriction, and allow them to challenge it before an independent judicial body. Subjecting all transactions to a mechanism whose criteria are not publicly disclosed because a prohibition list targets a limited group effectively shifts the burden of protection from the state onto the public as a whole.

The implications extend beyond property rights in the narrow sense. Syria is a party to the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, which protects the right to adequate housing, including legal security of tenure. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights also protects privacy and equality before the law. These guarantees are particularly important for refugees, internally displaced persons, and the heirs of missing persons, whose ability to return, resettle, or recover their property depends on property procedures that are predictable, accessible, and subject to review. The Pinheiro Principles, as non-binding international guidelines, likewise emphasize the importance of fair and transparent mechanisms for the restitution of housing, land, and property.

What Needs to Change?

If the genuine purpose of the “No Objection” requirement is to prevent a limited group of individuals from transferring or concealing their assets, ordinary property owners should not be subjected to a procedure whose rules they do not know. The legal basis for the restrictions should be published, together with the identity and competence of the decision-making authority, the criteria governing the addition and removal of names, the data relied upon, and the maximum period for deciding an application. The administration should also be required to inform individuals of the reasons for refusal and provide a prompt and effective avenue of appeal.

A distinction should also be drawn between legal restrictions attached to a particular property and vetting directed at the property owner as an individual. Where there are serious grounds to freeze the assets of a person suspected of involvement in crimes or corruption, those grounds should be translated into a specific, reviewable legal measure—not into a general restriction through which anyone seeking to sell a home or transfer an inheritance must pass.

Reforming Syria’s property system does not require ignoring the risks of asset or property transfers designed to evade accountability. It does, however, require addressing those risks through the tools of the rule of law. Breaking with the legacy of security approvals cannot be achieved merely by changing the name of the document, just as the new procedure should not be assumed to have failed merely because it resembles practices from the past. The real test of such a break is whether citizens know who is restricting their rights, under what law, for what reason, for how long, and before which body they can challenge that restriction. As long as these questions remain unanswered, the “No Objection” requirement remains, first and foremost, an issue of transparency and the rule of law rather than merely an administrative step in a real estate transaction.

Written by: Alaa Younes, Researcher, Business and Human Rights Unit, Syrian Legal Development Programme.

The Syrian Sovereign Fund building in the Mazzeh neighborhood of Damascus – December 28, 2025 (Enab Baladi)

The Syrian Sovereign Fund has become increasingly prominent in public debate following the launch of its website and the disclosure of some information about its structure, the sectors in which it operates, and the assets under its management. Yet a clearer public image of the Fund does not necessarily mean that its practices have improved. The information released has removed some of the institutional ambiguity, but it has not answered the most important questions: Who makes the decisions? How were assets transferred to the Fund? What will happen to confiscated and recovered assets? And who oversees the Fund when it manages extensive public property and financial resources?.

These questions affect the life of every Syrian. The management of public assets and their returns directly influences economic and social rights, as well as citizens’ right to scrutinise resources that are supposed to be managed for their benefit. It is therefore not enough for the Fund’s website to publish its objectives and a limited number of figures while withholding the information necessary for accountability. The Fund’s legal basis, governance mechanisms, and exposure to public oversight must also be examined.

The Fund’s Legal Structure and Its Implications

The Syrian Sovereign Fund was established under Decree No. 113 of 2025 as an economic institution with legal personality and financial and administrative independence. It is headquartered in Damascus and reports directly to the Presidency of the Republic. The decree gave the Fund broad objectives, including implementing development and production projects, investing resources, stimulating the economy, and turning inactive government assets into instruments of production and development.

The decree also provides for the Fund to be managed by a board of directors and a director-general. It requires quarterly and annual reports to be submitted to the Presidency and provides for financial audits by bodies described as independent from the Fund.

This structure may allow the Fund to manage distressed assets and take investment decisions more quickly than traditional public institutions. The problem, however, is that its financial and administrative independence is not matched, based on the available information, by an equivalent system of independent oversight and public accountability. The Fund reports directly to the Presidency, its leadership is appointed within the executive branch, and its reports are submitted to the same authority without being published or subjected to clear legislative or public scrutiny.

The official website does not disclose the names of all board members, their qualifications, or the process through which they were selected, despite describing the board as independent and composed of experts. Nor are there published rules requiring the disclosure of financial interests, preventing conflicts of interest, or obliging a board member to recuse themselves when considering a contract or project in which they have a direct or indirect interest.

As the new People’s Assembly begins its work, the Fund’s legal framework should be amended to make it accountable to the Assembly and require it to submit an annual report and audited financial statements, rather than limiting its accountability to the Presidency.

For an institution managing public assets on this scale, it is not enough simply to declare that the board is independent. Its composition, powers, decisions, and members’ interests must be open to verification and accountability.

What Do International Standards Require?

The Santiago Principles are a voluntary international framework consisting of 24 principles and generally accepted practices for the governance of sovereign wealth funds. They are not a legally binding international agreement, but they provide an important benchmark for assessing how such funds are managed, particularly in relation to transparency, accountability, operational independence, risk management, and investment based on clear economic and financial considerations.

The principles require a clear legal basis for the fund and an effective separation between the owner of the assets, the governing body, and the executive management. They also call for clearly defined responsibilities, transparent rules on appointments, accountability and conflicts of interest, annual reports and financial statements subject to independent audit, and disclosure of financial information, investment policies, and risk-management frameworks.

These requirements become even more important when a fund’s resources are not limited to financial surpluses or revenues from natural resources, but also include companies, real estate, land, and recovered or confiscated assets. In such cases, the legal framework should identify the origin of each asset, the legal basis for its transfer to the Fund, the method used to value it, any rights or disputes attached to it, and the rules governing whether it may be retained, sold, or offered for investment.

How Does the Syrian Fund Measure Against These Standards?

The Fund has taken a limited step towards presenting itself as an institution. This should not necessarily be regarded as a positive development in itself, but rather as a response to the minimum level of disclosure required from a public institution managing assets of this scale. It has launched a website, published its objectives and some organisational information, and stated that its governance structure is inspired by the Santiago Principles.

The website states that the Fund includes 36 specialised sectors and 11 central companies and provides more than 40,000 jobs. It also says that the Fund submits periodic reports to the Presidency and is subject to financial audits conducted by bodies independent from it. However, launching a website and publishing these figures does not amount to a meaningful shift towards transparency while the core information needed for accountability remains unavailable.

The Fund’s management has stated that it is reassessing recovered assets financially, technically, and administratively, and is building an electronic database for them. It has also said that it aims to improve their efficiency before carrying out what it described as an orderly exit that would generate returns for the state treasury. The Fund has also created a complaints office and communication channels for investors and the public.

These measures, however, form part of the basic responsibilities expected of any public institution managing assets of this magnitude. They should not be treated as sufficient evidence of sound governance. They also remain statements about internal plans and procedures unless they are translated into data and reports that can be independently verified by the public.

The website does not publish an opening balance sheet or audited financial statements. It does not identify the auditing bodies or disclose their findings. Nor does it provide a comprehensive list of the land, properties, and companies managed by the Fund, or sufficient information on their value, revenues, liabilities, or financial returns. It is also unclear whether these returns are transferred to the state treasury, reinvested, or used to finance specific projects.

Information disclosed during the Syrian-Emirati Investment Forum reveals that the scale of the Fund is considerably larger than its website suggests. According to The Syria Report, Fund officials stated that it owns or manages approximately 2,000 properties valued at around USD 2.5 billion, as well as more than 70 million square metres of land allocated for real-estate development, with planned projects valued at approximately USD 100 billion.

These projects include “New Damascus”, covering 33 million square metres and requiring an estimated USD 40–50 billion in investment, and a coastal project in Lattakia covering 11.5 million square metres, with investments potentially reaching USD 30 billion.
The report also disclosed the names of several officials and identified sectors and companies affiliated with the Fund. At the same time, it noted that the Fund’s governance mechanisms and the ultimate ownership arrangements of its assets remain only partially disclosed.

According to statements by the Fund’s management, some of the assets it manages were transferred to it through decisions issued by the Committee for Combating Illicit Enrichment. Yet there is no public register distinguishing between original state assets, assets recovered through settlements, assets confiscated by court judgments, and assets that may still be subject to ownership claims or legal disputes.

Without such distinctions, it is difficult to verify the validity of title or determine whether an asset may lawfully be sold or included in an investment partnership. It is also difficult to establish whether the rights of owners, creditors, workers, or other stakeholders were considered before the assets were transferred or disposed of.

The Impact of Ambiguity on the Economy and the Transition

The absence of disclosure is not merely a technical problem. Serious investors need to know who owns an asset, how it was valued, which authority approved its disposal, and how potential disputes will be resolved. The longer this information remains unavailable, the greater the legal and political risks, making investment more expensive and less stable.

For citizens, the issue concerns their right to know how state property is being managed and what happens to recovered funds. These assets do not belong to the Fund’s management or to the authorities currently in power. They are public resources that must be managed in accordance with the law and used to produce a measurable public benefit.

The lack of disclosure creates risks of favouritism, preferential treatment for particular investors, the sale of assets below their value, or the direction of resources towards projects that do not reflect Syrians’ social and economic priorities. The existence of these risks does not mean that misuse has already occurred. It does mean, however, that the safeguards currently in place are insufficient to prevent or independently detect it.

The risk is heightened because the Fund’s role extends far beyond the management of a limited investment portfolio. It operates in real estate, construction, telecommunications, energy, transport, industry, agriculture, tourism, natural resources, and other sectors. It can therefore influence which sectors receive financing, which assets are offered for sale or partnership, and which investors gain access to the market.

This gives the Fund an effective role in reshaping ownership and directing the Syrian economy. It may also lead to the creation of an economic centre operating alongside ministries, public institutions, and the state budget, concentrating assets, investments, and strategic decisions within a single structure.

This is particularly concerning during the transitional period. Concentrating such a role in an institution directly linked to the Presidency, before representative and oversight institutions are fully established, may entrench a new economic structure before it has been subjected to public debate or democratic scrutiny. Decisions taken today concerning land, companies, and infrastructure may become extremely difficult to revisit in the future, even if they are later found not to have served the public interest.

Reform should therefore not be limited to improving the website or publishing general figures. The Fund should disclose its opening balance sheet, financial statements, and audit reports, publish the full composition of its board; adopt binding conflict-of-interest rules, and create a public asset register identifying the origin, legal status, and value of each asset.

A clear distinction should also be made between original state assets, recovered assets, confiscated assets, and assets subject to dispute. Major decisions, particularly the sale or transfer of public assets, should be subject to independent external oversight and clear legal and judicial review.

The Sovereign Fund could play an important role in bringing assets back into productive use, attracting investment, and supporting economic recovery. Yet the scale of its powers and the breadth of the sectors it manages mean that its governance is part of the success of the political transition, not merely an internal administrative matter. Syria’s economic reconstruction cannot be built by replacing one form of opacity with another, or by concentrating wealth and economic decision-making in an institution that remains subject to limited public accountability.

Written by: Alaa Younes, Researcher, Business and Human Rights Unit, Syrian Legal Development Programme.

The visit of the United Nations Special Rapporteur on the Human Rights of Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) to Syria took place from 10 to 21 July 2026, at a defining moment in the country’s transition.

While the fall of the Assad regime in December 2024 created renewed hopes for return and reconstruction, internal displacement remains far from resolved. Many families continue to face uncertainty on many different levels: insecurity, destroyed homes, unresolved housing, land and property (HLP) claims, missing civil documentation, and the absence of effective legal remedies preventing them from returning safely and voluntarily.

At the same time, renewed violence in the Syrian Coast, Sweida and other parts of the country since early 2025 has demonstrated that internal displacement is no longer solely a legacy of the former regime but continues to arise during the transitional period itself. Addressing displacement must therefore become an integral component of Syria’s broader efforts towards transitional justice.

Discussions with affected communities across the country highlighted a wide range of situations, from Assad-era redevelopment projects in Damascus, where many residents continue to challenge restitution and compensation models they consider inadequate to the severity of the violations suffered by Assad, to the continued inability of many displaced Kurdish families to recover their homes in Afrin, Tell Abyad and Ras al-Ayn and many families being unable to return to their homes in the Coast or in Sweida, where the absence of a national strategy is aggravating the lives of thousands of displaced.

Based on the above, displacement in Syria can no longer be approached solely as a humanitarian issue requiring emergency assistance. Rather, it reflects a complex intersection of housing, land and property rights, accountability, access to justice, civic participation, social cohesion and legal reform, requiring a comprehensive, rights-based response.
Syria should seize the momentum created by the Special Rapporteur’s visit to develop a comprehensive national legislative and policy framework on internal displacement. Such a framework should move beyond policies centred exclusively on return and adopt a rights-based approach that would both take into account preventing displacement and providing systemic responses when displacement occurs.

The Challenge of Legislative Gaps: Responding before and after displacement

Internal displacement in Syria is often understood as one of the principal legacies of the armed conflict and the policies of the former Assad regime. Yet, after the fall of the regime, major developments during 2025 and 2026 and the ongoing impact of displacement demonstrated that displacement cannot be regarded solely as a historical consequence of the former regime.
As a result, displaced persons continue to navigate inadequate legal procedures that fail to address the interconnected nature of displacement and its consequences.
Without a comprehensive national framework, reconstruction efforts and return policies risk being ineffective, potentially consolidating or reproducing patterns of exclusion and dispossession rather than providing adequate responses to the needs of displaced people.

As a quick reminder, the obligations and regulations for IDPs have been consolidated into a coherent international framework through three complementary instruments: the UN Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement, the IASC Framework on Durable Solutions for Internally Displaced Persons, and the Pinheiro Principles on Housing and Property Restitution for Refugees and Displaced Persons.

Together, these instruments provide the principal international standards for preventing arbitrary displacement, protecting internally displaced persons throughout displacement, and enabling durable solutions grounded in human rights.

Prevention and non-recurrence as an innovative approach to IDPs standards

The cornerstone of an innovative approach to internal displacement would require that a national policy framework on IDPs be based on human rights standards, particularly the UN Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement. Principles 5 to 9 establish the State’s obligation to prevent arbitrary displacement, yet they provide limited directly applicable guidance on the national institutional mechanisms through which this obligation should be implemented.

A true ambition of such an approach lies in building a framework that systematically and structurally prevents the occurrence of new displacements.
Most national IDP laws from other countries focus on protection and assistance after displacement has occurred, whereas very few establish mechanisms genuinely aimed at preventing displacement. Syria, therefore, has a unique opportunity to adopt an innovative approach by making prevention and guarantees of non-recurrence the organising principles of a national displacement framework.

Such a framework should require that any legislative, administrative or military decision that may result in, or significantly aggravate, internal displacement be subject to a prior assessment of its compatibility with national and international standards protecting internally displaced persons; thereby giving practical effect to the preventive obligations contained in Principles 5 to 9 of the UN Guiding Principles. The national framework could include within the scope of its systematic assessment, for example, reconstruction laws and urban redevelopment plans, military operations, security measures, or large-scale infrastructure projects that risk causing displacement or preventing return.

The allegations surrounding redevelopment proposals in Jobar and Qaboun illustrate why such safeguards are needed. For many residents, the proposed compensation models risk creating a new cycle of dispossession by effectively requiring displaced residents to finance reconstruction through the loss of part of their own property rights. A displacement impact assessment could have required an independent review of these proposals before their adoption, assessing whether they complied with international standards, whether affected communities had been meaningfully consulted, and whether alternative approaches could better facilitate voluntary return rather than renewed displacement.

This preventive “displacement impact assessment” should not be carried out solely by the institution responsible for proposing or implementing the initial measure that may cause such displacement. Rather, it should involve a review by another competent authority, such as an independent commission, Parliament, the judiciary, a national human rights institution, or another oversight body. Depending on the institutional model adopted, that body could be empowered to issue binding decisions, require modifications, suspend implementation pending further review, or provide non-binding advisory opinions on the displacement risks associated with the proposed measure.

Embedding such institutional safeguards would ensure that the risk of displacement is considered before government action is taken, rather than addressed only once violations have already occurred. In this way, Syria would operationalise the preventive obligations already recognised in concrete domestic legal procedures and institutional safeguards.
In doing so, Syria could move beyond the traditional humanitarian approach to internal displacement and establish one of the first national frameworks centred on the structural prevention of displacement.

Addressing HLP violations After Displacement

Once displacement has occurred, the absence of effective national planning and comprehensive legal frameworks not only prolongs displacement but also exacerbates existing vulnerabilities, giving rise to further violations of the rights of those internally displaced.

In the particular context of the transition, one of the principal factors aggravating the situation for internally displaced persons is HLP rights. International law already provides a comprehensive legal framework to address HLP once displacement has occurred, particularly in contexts of large-scale displacement where reconstruction policies, urban redevelopment and property restitution give rise to complex legal and practical obstacles.

In the absence of a coherent national policy framework, these principles should guide the actions of the Syrian authorities and inspire the development of future national legislation. By addressing internal displacement both before and after it occurs, such a framework would help prevent renewed violations while giving practical effect to guarantees of non-recurrence.

The need for such a framework is illustrated by the continuing legacy of redevelopment projects initiated under Decree No. 66, including Marota City. During the Special Rapporteur’s visit, affected communities raised concerns that the redevelopment process effectively placed restitution beyond reach, despite allegations that the compensation and share-based schemes offered in its place failed to adequately restore their HLP rights. Guided by the Pinheiro Principles, it is needed to establish clear criteria for determining when restitution remains possible and, where it is not, to ensure that any alternative remedy provides genuine and adequate reparation.

The Pinheiro Principles set out detailed standards on HLP restitution, recognising restitution as the preferred remedy and establishing procedural safeguards to ensure effective access to remedies and compensation where restitution is not possible. The Pinheiro Principles reaffirm that displaced persons have the right to voluntary, safe and dignified return and that housing, land and property restitution should be the preferred remedy whenever possible (Pinheiro Principles 2 and 10). Compensation should only be considered where restitution is factually impossible or where the affected person knowingly and voluntarily accepts compensation in lieu of restitution (Pinheiro Principle 21).

This approach is particularly relevant in Syria, where internally displaced persons continue to face obstacles in recovering their homes, land and property as a result of destruction, loss of documentation, secondary occupation, unresolved ownership disputes, discriminatory planning measures and recent allegations of forced evictions linked to redevelopment projects.
The Pinheiro Principles also establish a number of procedural safeguards that are directly applicable to the current transitional context. These include the obligation to establish accessible, independent and non-discriminatory restitution procedures (Principles 12–15); ensure equal access to restitution for women and men (Principle 4); recognise diverse forms of tenure and ownership, including situations where documentary evidence has been lost or destroyed; and guarantee effective judicial review and remedies for those whose housing, land or property rights have been violated.

Equally important, the implementation of any restitution framework should be carried out with the meaningful participation of affected communities. Civil society organisations and affected communities repeatedly emphasised the need for greater consultation in the design of reconstruction and redevelopment policies. Ensuring that internally displaced persons are able to participate meaningfully in decisions affecting their homes, land and property is essential not only to the legitimacy of restitution processes, but also to building trust and supporting durable solutions.

Combined with a preventive framework based on displacement impact assessments, the Pinheiro Principles would ensure that Syria addresses both sides of displacement: preventing future displacement while while systematically addressing with restitution or compensation the housing, land and property disputes that continue to prevent durable solutions today.

Written by: Adrian Lakrichi, Legal Analyst, the International Law Support Unit

Last month, Syria saw a wave of strikes across several private-sector companies. It began at a ceramics factory south of Damascus. Workers at Zanobiya Ceramics not only demanded higher pay, but also raised concerns about medical care, health insurance, first aid, and the presence of a doctor at the facility.

The strike quickly moved beyond one factory. Similar protests and sit-ins appeared in other private-sector companies, including al-Hafez and Madar. The takeaway is clear: robust labour rights protections should not be treated as a matter of secondary concern, but rather as vital to the strength and durability of Syria’s recovery.

Syria’s international commitments

As the primary guarantor of human rights, the transitional government is under a range of obligations under international law. Syria has been a party to the International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights (ICESCR) since 1969. Under Article 6, states recognise the right to work, which includes the right of everyone to gain a living by work they freely choose or accept, and must take appropriate steps to safeguard this right. Article 7 goes further, recognising the right of everyone to just and favourable conditions of work: fair wages and equal remuneration for work of equal value; a decent living for workers and their families; safe and healthy working conditions; equal opportunity for promotion; and rest, reasonable working hours, and paid holidays.

Read alongside the ICESCR’s prescription of the right to an adequate standard of living and the right to health, these provisions describe precisely the demands the Zanobiya workers raised. Further, as a longstanding ILO member, Syria has ratified the organisation’s fundamental conventions, including those on freedom of association and the right to organise and bargain collectively (Nos. 87 and 98), equal remuneration (No. 100), non-discrimination (No. 111) and the abolition of forced labour (Nos. 29 and 105), as well as the Labour Inspection Convention (No. 81) and, notably, the Occupational Safety and Health Convention (No. 155)—one of the first Arab states to do so. On paper, then, the safe and healthy working conditions the Zanobiya workers demanded are already the subject of a binding commitment.

The problem, therefore, is not a matter of a missing signature but rather the gap between ratification and enforcement: workers still had to stop production to ask for first aid, a doctor on site, and basic health cover that Convention No. 155 already obliges the state to ensure.

The remaining gaps compound this. Syria has not ratified the Occupational Safety and Health promotional-framework convention (No. 187), the Social Security (Minimum Standards) Convention (No. 102) or the Minimum Wage Fixing Convention (No. 131)—instruments that would anchor social protection and a wage that tracks the cost of living. Ratifying and, above all, implementing these standards should be treated as central to reform. But the delay in reforming, strengthening, and enforcing better protections should not signal to businesses an absence of responsibility. Under the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights, businesses have an independent responsibility to respect human rights, which includes the rights protected by the ICESCR and ILO Conventions.

The problem with ‘compliance’

When workers at Zanobiya struck in demand of stronger economic and social protections, decent wages amid deteriorating living conditions, a safe working environment, social protection, health insurance, and first aid, the company responded by pointing to its compliance with labour law. Therein lies the problem. Inadequate labour laws that do not reflect or adhere to international standards can turn ‘compliance’ into a shield, and where the law itself falls short, meeting it may still constitute a failure of the state to fulfil a range of international legal obligations: the right to just and favourable conditions of work, an adequate standard of living and the right to health, among others.

A business model that survives by keeping workers below subsistence level is not sustainable, and a legal framework that permits it is not fit for the recovery Syrians want to build. Reform means enforceable minimum wages that meet living costs, regular labour inspection, genuine health and safety obligations, and reliable channels for workplace complaints. Protecting the rights of workers does not constitute a hurdle on Syria’s road to recovery, but rather a viable pathway thereto.

A test of the new Syria

The government and the private sector must not lose sight of the fact that workers are not incidental to reconstruction; they are integral to it. Recovery must support those whose labour drives it. Respecting workers’ rights does not impose burdens on employers or encumber them, but rather sustains recovery and business over the long term, building an economy that can endure rather than one that runs on the exhaustion of the people who hold it up. This is not only a question of economics. Demands for social and economic rights, for dignity, fair wages and a life not defined by deprivation, were among the very grievances that drove the Syrian revolution. To fall short with workers at such a critical moment in the nation’s history would betray the values of a movement to which so many devoted, and lost, their lives, workers among them. If Syria is to transition into a just, rights-respecting democracy in which every citizen is treated equitably, then reforming its labour law is not a peripheral or technical adjustment but a fundamental part of that project, one measure of whether the new Syria will honour the promises made in the name of those who fought for it.

Written by: Alreem Kamal, Legal Officer, Human Rights & Business Unit

One year ago, violence erupted in the Sweida governorate. What began as a local confrontation in the Maqwas neighborhood of Sweida city rapidly escalated into one of the deadliest episodes of violence since the fall of Assad. Based on CoI’s documentation, within three days, more than 1,700 people were killed, the large majority of whom were from the Druze community. Violations against them also included destruction of entire villages and homes and subsequent massive displacement, torture and outrages of personal dignity, sexual and gender-based violence, and the detention and disappearance of civilian population at the hands of both government forces and tribal fighters, aggravated by the severe sectarian nature of such crimes. Bedouin civilians also suffered killings, arbitrary deprivation of liberty and other grave abuses of their rights at the hands of Druze armed groups, including forced displacement from their homes.

Beyond its devastating human toll, the violence deepened mistrust between communities and toward the State, further eroded the social fabric of Syria and led to entire Druze communities experiencing fear for their present and future – a destructive impact that Syria and all Syrians couldn’t afford at that stage of the transition.

Consistent with its obligations under international human rights law, the Syrian state is required to respect human rights, prevent violations and protect its population. During the violence, government forces were directly implicated in the commission of human rights abuses and failed, overall, to fulfill those obligations in relation to abuses committed by other actors, including tribal fighters. One year later, the absence of a meaningful victim-centered response has compounded that initial failure.

In this phase of the political transition, a victim-centered response is not a matter of political discretion. It instead reflects obligations arising from international human rights treaties binding on Syria, and recognised by Article 12(2) of Syria’s post-Assad Constitutional Declaration. This requires Syria to ensure that all victims’ dignity and their rights to justice, truth, reparations, guarantees of non-recurrence and participation shape the response to Sweida violence.

More importantly, however, Sweida raises a foundational question that extends beyond accountability for one specific case: what does it mean to repair state violence when that violence was committed after liberation?

The violence in Sweida in July 2025, the further violations that followed, and their continuous nature, including the inability to return, occurred after liberation – at a moment when the new government was expected to embody a decisive break with past patterns of state violence, especially after the Coastal massacre. This fundamentally alters the legal and political significance of the State’s response. In this context, a victim-centered response serves two interconnected purposes. It restores the right and dignity of those harmed, while demonstrating that the new Syrian state genuinely accepts legal responsibility for violence committed under their own authority. In this sense, the fulfilment of victims’ rights becomes a measure not only of justice for individuals, but of the constitutional and rights-based character of the transition itself.

Right to Justice and Right to Truth: Accountability and Truth as Recognition

Under IHRL, accountability and truth processes are part of a broader right to remedy, which requires such processes to be independent and impartial, accessible and participatory, and overall effective in being capable of reflecting the whole experience of harm suffered by victims, and to lead to concrete results in terms of punishment, disclosure and reform. It also constitutes formal recognition by the State that violations occurred and that victims are right-holders and equal citizens before the law.

As an important step, judicial proceedings have recently started; nevertheless, military courts are consistently considered to be structurally ill-suited to deliver justice for gross human rights violations against civilians. Their jurisdiction, composition and institutional purpose sits uneasily with the requirements of independence, impartiality, public scrutiny and victims’ participation required by IHRL. UN Treaty Bodies and regional human rights courts have consistently emphasized that gross human rights violations should be investigated and prosecuted before ordinary civilian courts.

A victim-centered response also requires institutions and processes capable of delivering justice in a way that victims can see justice being done, and whether it is being done on their behalf. Yet, public information regarding ongoing investigations remains limited, including about investigations against any unit or organisational commanders, and it is negatively impacted by reports of possible amnesties to perpetrators. This makes it difficult for victims and the wider public to assess whether proceedings are genuine, comprehensive and impartial. Access to relevant information is an essential component of victims’ ability to effectively exercise their right to an effective remedy.

A victim-centred approach futher requires that all allegations of grave abuses committed during the violence be clarified and investigated, regardless of the identity, role or affiliation of the alleged perpetrators. This includes examining the responsibility of those at all levels of the chain of command. This includes assessing both direct criminal responsibility and superior responsibility, including individuals within government forces who may have ordered, planned, authorised or, where applicable, failed to prevent or punish the commission of such abuses, including those that may have permitted irregular forces to accompany state agents in military operations.

Beyond state responsibility, a victim-centered response also requires addressing the whole extent of violence suffered by victims in Sweida. It therefore requires investigations into violations committed by tribal fighters who committed violations against Druze civilians, whether by acting under effective control of the government forces or acting with their acquiescence, or independently of it. Additionally, it also requires ensuring that every effort is taken toward guaranteeing that investigations and prosecutions will also include individuals linked with other non-state actors, responsible for violations against the Bedouins community and other civilians, including in the period after the massacre. On this note, it is imperative to ensure that no future political agreement with relevant parties should displace the rights of victims to justice.

The recognition extends beyond the truth disclosed through judicial proceedings. Victims have the right to know the truth about the circumstances in which violations occurred, including how, when, why and by whom they were committed. Moreover, democratic transitions depend upon replacing state-controlled narratives with institutions capable of producing credible public truth. In this regard, the Syrian society as a whole has an interest in ensuring a public record of violence that is capable of preventing denial and revisionism, especially in the current climate of proliferation of hate speech and sectarian incitement against Druze.

Although the establishment of the Sweida Fact-Finding Committee, including the government’s cooperation with the Commission of Inquiry, represents a positive and important initial step, the value of the domestic fact-finding process ultimately depends on the credibility, completeness and accessibility of their findings. In this respect, discrepancies between the CoI report and the domestic one, which appears not to fully reflect the role of private actors acting alongside state forces and the level of coordination underlying the military operation, may risk undermining rather than fulfilling victims’ right to the truth. The limited public disclosure of the domestic report further undermines the fulfillment of this obligation, as technical publication alone cannot substitute for meaningful public disclosure of truth and access to information, outreach and engagement with affected communities.

For many families, however, the most immediate expression of the right to truth remains knowing the fate of their disappeared relatives. Dozens of cases of detention and enforced disappearance of men and boys by the Syrian transitional government have been reported, including of individuals allegedly detained in Adra and Mezzeh Military Prison, while a few individuals remain missing following deprivation of liberty by forces affiliated with al-Hijri. Irrespective of the military context in which these cases of deprivation of liberty occurred, IHRL obliges the Syrian state to fully clarify the fate and whereabouts of all disappeared persons without delay, to put an end promptly to any arbitrary detention, and to investigate and prosecute any individual or entity responsible for such cases of arbitrary detention and enforced disappearance. Enforced disappearance, arbitrary detention and families’ separation from their loved ones represented the core form of societal violence of the Assad regime against the Syrian people. Political or military arrangements, especially after the liberation from Assad, cannot displace or substitute the state’s obligation to respect the fundamental rights of every Syrian citizen to liberty, dignity and freedom from torture and ill-treatment.

Right to Reparations and Right Guarantees of Non-Recurrence: Reform and Acknowledgement as Essential to Repair Trust between the State and its Citizens

A victim-centered response requires reparations for all victims of the violence in Sweida that are adequate, effective and proportionate to the gravity of the violations suffered. This needs to be accompanied by reforms that can concretely lead to effective prevention and non-recurrence of violations, both in relation to the acts, and the circumstances and the institutional conditions that may have underpinned such violations. They constitute a legal obligation arising from IHRL and seek to restore victims’ dignity, recognise the harm suffered and transform the institutional conditions that enabled the violations and failed to protect civilians from abuses.

In the case of Sweida, reparations extend beyond repairing individual harm. Violence that occurred after the liberation of Syria represents a profound rupture in the country’s transition. For many Syrians, the expectation that liberation would inaugurate a new relationship between citizens and state, and among communities themselves, was replaced by renewed experiences of state and inter-communal violence. The resulting harm is therefore not only physical or material, but deeply collective and political. Repairing that harm requires more than traditional forms of reparations; it requires rebuilding the relationship of trust between citizens and a State that failed to protect them after the liberation, and between communities. In this sense, trust is not merely a political aspiration but the product of rights-respecting institutions.

Firstly, a victim-centred response requires the Syrian transitional government to complement criminal accountability with institutional accountability capable of addressing the broader causes of violations. Under IHRL, guarantees of non-recurrence constitute a component of the right to an effective remedy, requiring structural reforms in cases where violations reveal institutional failures rather than isolated misconduct. This requires a broader process of institutional self-examination, including vetting and identification of individuals within leadership who may have permitted or organised such violations, or at minimum may be responsible for loss of control of their forces or for allowing irregular actors to accompany them. This institutional review is significantly important, including as a response to concerns raised by the Commission of Inquiry that attacks may have been part “of a widespread and systematic attack against the civilian population of Suwayda across a subset of government force commanders”.

Importantly, it also requires a serious assessment of tribal mobilization and the risks posed by the involvement of private citizens in violence against their fellow Syrian citizens, which is essential for safeguarding the broader political transition, preserving the unity of the Syrian people and guaranteeing that mobilization won’t occur in the future and will be efficiently prevented. Such assessments and reforms should be conducted transparently, and incorporate the participation of victims and affected communities.

Second, acknowledgment of all Syrian citizens’ suffering, including the commitment by the State to acknowledge, openly and unequivocally, the violations occurred and to apologise publicly to the affected communities, if accompanied by concrete truth, justice and reform measures outlined above, remain essential to be able to ensure that all Syrians find themselves part of the new State. Official acknowledgement of responsibility and official apologies are recognised forms of satisfaction and a form of remedy to victims under IHRL.

Ultimately, the response to Sweida is part of the societal and political memory of Syria’s transition. The legitimacy of the new Syrian state will ultimately be measured not by the promises made at the moment of liberation, but by its willingness to recognise the rights of those harmed by state-violence committed after liberation. A state demonstrates its liberation-character not by claiming infallibility, but by accepting legal responsibility when it fails to protect its citizens and taking effective steps to remedy such harm that meaningfully fulfill victims’ rights. In this sense, whether victims harmed after liberation experience the new state as a genuine guarantor of rights or as another source of violence, denial or marginalisation will depend on the willingness of public institutions to fully acknowledge responsibility, repair the harms suffered by all victims and reform the structures that made those violations possible, again.

As Syria enters a new phase of recovery and reconstruction, few issues are more consequential than the future of its informal settlements. Across the country, millions of Syrians have lived for decades in neighbourhoods classified as “informal” or “unregulated.” These communities are often portrayed as planning failures, legal irregularities, or obstacles to modern urban development. Yet such characterisations overlook a fundamental reality: informal settlements are not the result of individual wrongdoing. They are the product of decades of state failure to provide affordable housing, effective urban planning, and accessible land management systems.

Treating residents of informal settlements as second-class property holders would not only be unjust; it would undermine the very foundations of a sustainable and rights-respecting reconstruction process.

Informality Was Produced by the State

Before the conflict, informal housing constituted between 30 and 50 percent of Syria’s housing stock. Entire districts of Damascus, Aleppo, Homs, and other cities developed outside formal planning frameworks. These neighbourhoods became home to millions of Syrians, particularly lower-income families seeking affordable housing close to economic opportunities.
This reality did not emerge because Syrians rejected the law. Rather, it emerged because successive governments under the Assad regime failed to provide sufficient affordable housing and created a rigid and dysfunctional urban planning system that could not keep pace with demographic growth and rural-to-urban migration. Restrictive land policies, inefficient planning procedures, weak implementation capacity, and corruption collectively pushed large segments of the population into informal housing solutions.

At the same time, the state gradually normalised these areas by extending electricity, water, roads, schools, and public services. Informal settlements were tolerated, taxed, serviced, and politically integrated. Residents purchased homes, invested life savings, raised families, and built communities over generations. Many possessed various forms of ownership documentation, even where formal cadastral registration was incomplete. Informality, therefore, did not signify the absence of social legitimacy or genuine property interests.

The challenge facing Syria today is that many reconstruction initiatives continue to approach informal settlements primarily as planning problems rather than rights-holders’ communities.
This approach is dangerous because it risks reproducing one of the central injustices of the conflict era: the use of urban planning and redevelopment to dispossess vulnerable populations. As the case of Marota and Basilia Cities projects organised under Decree 66 and Law 10 demonstrates, legal and planning instruments were used to facilitate property confiscation, forced displacement, and demographic engineering. Entire neighbourhoods were demolished under the language of redevelopment while residents received little meaningful protection or compensation.

If reconstruction authorities now argue that residents of informal settlements deserve less compensation because their homes were not formally zoned, they would effectively punish communities for a condition largely created by decades of state policy failures.

The legal status of a neighbourhood should not determine the value of human dignity, security, or belonging.

Equal Compensation Is a Matter of Justice

Housing, land, and property rights are not limited to those possessing perfect paperwork or residing within formally planned neighbourhoods. International standards increasingly recognise a broad range of tenure arrangements and require protection against arbitrary displacement.

In practical terms, this means that residents of informal settlements should be entitled to compensation mechanisms equivalent to those available to residents of formally zoned areas when their properties are expropriated, demolished, or redeveloped.

Equal compensation does not necessarily mean identical compensation formulas. Authorities may need to account for different ownership arrangements and documentation systems. However, the underlying principle must remain clear: families should not receive reduced protection simply because they lived in an informal area.

A family in informal districts of Homs, Damascus, Aleppo, Deir Az-Zor or others, may have occupied and invested in a property for decades. Their economic loss, social disruption, and emotional attachment to place are no less significant than those experienced by residents of formally registered neighbourhoods. Indeed, because many informal settlements housed lower-income communities, unequal compensation risks deepening existing inequalities and further marginalising populations that have already borne the brunt of conflict and displacement.
Many of these communities were also at the forefront of the Syrian revolution and subsequently faced some of the harshest forms of collective punishment by the Assad regime. These neighbourhoods were subjected to siege, bombardment, forced displacement, and redevelopment policies that stripped residents of their homes and property rights. For many families, the loss of housing was not simply a consequence of conflict but part of a broader pattern of political retaliation. Any reconstruction framework that fails to restore their rights, or that provides them with lesser protections than residents of formal areas, risks reinforcing these injustices. Beyond the moral and legal concerns, such an approach could generate renewed social tensions, undermine confidence in state institutions, and weaken the credibility of the governing authorities at a moment when trust, inclusion, and national reconciliation are essential to Syria’s recovery.

Reconstruction Depends on Recognising Informal Communities

This debate is not merely about fairness. It is also about the success of reconstruction itself.
Syria’s recovery will require the return of displaced populations, the restoration of public trust, and the reintegration of fractured communities. None of these objectives can be achieved if millions of Syrians fear that reconstruction will become another mechanism for exclusion or dispossession.

Experiences from around the world demonstrate that attempts to erase informal settlements through top-down redevelopment often generate resistance, social fragmentation, and prolonged disputes. Sustainable urban recovery is more likely when authorities recognise existing communities, regularise tenure where possible, and involve residents in planning decisions affecting their future.

For Syria, this means moving beyond the simplistic distinction between “formal” and “informal.” The real question is not whether a neighbourhood complied with planning regulations decades ago. The real question is whether reconstruction policies respect the rights and legitimate interests of the people who live there.

A Rights-Based Path Forward

A rights-based reconstruction framework should therefore include several core principles.

First, informal settlements should be recognised as a structural feature of Syria’s urban development history rather than as isolated legal violations.

Second, residents of informal settlements should enjoy equal access to restitution, compensation, and dispute-resolution mechanisms.

Third, compensation schemes should account for diverse forms of evidence of ownership and occupancy, including customary arrangements, municipal records, utility bills, witness testimony, and other forms of proof.

Fourth, urban redevelopment projects should prioritise in-situ upgrading and regularisation wherever feasible rather than large-scale displacement, provided that communities are duly consulted prior to any such project’s design or implementation.

Finally, affected communities must be meaningfully consulted throughout planning and reconstruction processes.

Building Cities Without Exclusion

The reconstruction of Syria’s cities will inevitably require difficult choices about land use, infrastructure, and urban development. Yet one principle should remain non-negotiable: informality must not become a justification for unequal rights.

Informal settlements were the product of decades of neglect, planning failures, and structural shortcomings. Their residents should not be asked to bear the costs of those failures again.

If reconstruction is to contribute to justice, stability, and long-term recovery, it must recognise that housing, land, and property rights belong to all Syrians, not only those fortunate enough to have lived within the boundaries of a zoning plan. The future of Syria’s cities depends not on erasing informal communities, but on integrating them as equal stakeholders in the country’s recovery.

Written by: Eyad Hamid, Head of Human Rights & Business Unit, SLDP

Syria’s transition into a new political reality has brought questions of transitional justice from the theoretical to the urgently practical. Who will be held accountable for the abuses of the past decade? What mechanisms will be capable of delivering meaningful redress? And critically, will accountability extend beyond armed individuals to the economic actors who enabled, financed, and profited from the mass atrocities of the last 15 years?

These questions are not novel. Post-conflict societies from Nuremberg to Bogotá have grappled with the role of businesses in sustaining violence, and the record is sobering. Earlier this year, the Paris Criminal Court found cement giant Lafarge guilty of financing terrorism and violating international sanctions for its operations in Syria. a landmark ruling that signals growing recognition of corporate entity complicity. Yet Lafarge remains the exception. A comparative review of five transitional justice settings — Germany, South Africa, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Colombia, and Sierra Leone — reveals a consistent pattern: whilst transitional justice frameworks have increasingly acknowledged the role of corporate actors in conflict, they have overwhelmingly failed to translate that acknowledgement into enforceable accountability. For Syria, learning from these failures is a design imperative.

A Gap That Keeps Reappearing

The “corporate accountability gap” reflects the deep roots of state-centric and individually-focused criminal law paradigms. The Nuremberg Military Tribunals are often cited as a foundational precedent, yet the historical record is more nuanced than this framing suggests. While corporations as legal entities were never formally prosecuted, leading industrialists were tried for financing the SS, profiting from slave labour, and sustaining the Nazi war economy. The dissolution of IG Farben demonstrated that corporate entities could be subject to punitive intervention even without formal criminal conviction. The real lesson of Nuremberg is not that corporate accountability is legally impossible, but that it must be actively constructed through tailored legal instruments — without which political and economic pressures will erode whatever gains are made. Many industrialist convictions were later reduced or commuted as Western powers prioritised reconstruction and geopolitical stability. For Syria, the parallel is direct: resisting pressure to normalise economic relations at the expense of accountability requires explicit legal safeguards built in from the outset.

Voluntary Participation

South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission and its 1997 Business and Labour Hearings formally acknowledged the role of corporations in sustaining apartheid. However, since corporate participation was voluntary and the TRC lacked enforcement powers, those findings produced no binding accountability or reparations. The subsequent Khulumani litigation illustrated both the possibilities and the severe limitations of relying on foreign jurisdictions to fill domestic gaps. When both the South African and US governments moved to obstruct the case, what resulted was a paralysis of accountability that left victims without remedy.

Colombia’s more recent experience reinforces the same lesson. Despite a sophisticated three-pillar transitional justice system, corporate actors remain subject only to voluntary participation. The Truth Commission’s final report documented how economic actors facilitated violence through land dispossession and contracts securing military protection for corporate infrastructure. However, without mandatory jurisdiction, documentation has not translated into accountability. The 2024 jury verdict against Chiquita Brands, the first time a US jury found a corporation liable for overseas human rights abuses, took seventeen years of litigation, showcasing why foreign proceedings cannot substitute for robust domestic mechanisms.

Overlooking the Local

Bosnia and Herzegovina offers a further cautionary tale, particularly relevant to Syria’s fragmented economic landscape. The International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY) pursued individual criminal accountability with considerable rigour yet left the political economy of the conflict entirely unaddressed. The Dayton Agreement prioritised market reconstruction over accountability, enabling wartime elites to consolidate economic power in the post-war period. Most instructively, the framework’s omissions extended beyond large corporations to locally embedded economic actors, enterprises that materially enabled wartime violence but were never scrutinised. For Syria, where local businesses and networks played a significant role in sustaining regime abuses, a framework that focuses solely on high-level actors risks leaving intact the economic structures that enabled and benefited from the conflict.

What Syria Needs

The comparative record points toward several concrete design requirements for a Syrian transitional justice framework. The most fundamental is mandatory jurisdiction over economic actors. Across every case examined, voluntary participation produced the same result: documentation without accountability. Any Syrian mechanism must include compulsory jurisdiction over both corporate entities and individuals acting in a business capacity, insulated from political interference.

The framework must also address the full spectrum of economic complicity. Sierra Leone’s experience with diamond financing illustrates how conflict economies operate through layered, diffuse networks, while Bosnia demonstrates the consequences of overlooking local actors entirely. Civil society must be institutionally empowered rather than merely included: Colombia’s organisations such as Dejusticia and the Corporate Accountability Lab demonstrate what sustained advocacy can achieve. Syrian civil society, including diaspora organisations with considerable legal capacity, should be formally integrated into transitional justice mechanisms with the standing to make that participation substantive.

Syria’s transitional justice process is still being shaped. The choices made now about institutional design and the treatment of economic actors will determine whether accountability is genuinely achieved or, once again, deferred in favour of reconstruction and political expediency. Closing the corporate accountability gap is not a secondary concern. It is central to whether transitional justice in Syria will be meaningful at all.

Written by: Alia Khalouf, Legal Intern at HRBU, LSE LLB Graduate

As Syria gradually reopens economically, regional businesses are increasingly exploring opportunities in sectors such as construction, infrastructure, telecommunications, transport, logistics, energy, and real estate. For many companies, Syria represents a potentially important post-conflict market with significant long-term demand. Yet Syria is not a conventional investment environment. Years of conflict, displacement, institutional collapse, and economic fragmentation mean that business activity will inevitably interact with broader questions of human rights, governance, and social stability. For regional businesses, this creates both responsibility and risk.

Experiences from post-conflict settings such as Iraq, Lebanon, and Bosnia and Herzegovina show that reconstruction processes can deepen inequality and instability when investment moves faster than governance reform. In many cases, poorly regulated reconstruction has contributed to corruption, labour exploitation, environmental harm, and exclusion of affected communities. Businesses operating in Syria should seek to avoid repeating these patterns.

A key starting point is heightened human rights due diligence. Companies entering the Syrian market should carefully assess who they partner with, how projects affect local communities, and whether operations could contribute to displacement, exploitation, or exclusion. Syria’s wartime economy reshaped ownership structures, supply chains, and local power dynamics. Without proper due diligence, businesses may expose themselves to legal, financial, reputational, and operational risks,or future disputes over property and procurement.

Housing, land, and property rights are particularly sensitive. Millions of Syrians remain displaced, while many others face unresolved property claims, missing documentation, or damaged records. Businesses involved in housing, redevelopment, or infrastructure projects should ensure that investments do not contribute to forced displacement or prevent communities from returning to their homes. Community consultation and transparency are essential, not only from a rights perspective, but also to mitigate future legal and operational risks.

Labour rights should also be treated as a core reconstruction issue. Syria’s economic collapse has increased vulnerability among workers. Companies that rely on unsafe conditions, exploitative wages, or unregulated labour may achieve short-term cost reductions, but they also increase reputational exposure and long-term instability. By contrast, businesses that invest in fair wages, safer working conditions, and local employment are more likely to build trust and sustainable operations over time.

Environmental responsibility is equally important. Conflict-related destruction has left Syria facing serious environmental and public health challenges, including pollution, damaged infrastructure, and unsafe rubble management. Businesses that integrate environmental safeguards into reconstruction projects are likely to face fewer community tensions, regulatory risks, and future liabilities.

Importantly, responsible business practices should not be viewed as obstacles to investment. In post-conflict settings, they are increasingly becoming commercial necessities. Companies associated with transparency, responsible partnerships, labour protections, and community engagement are more likely to attract international partners, maintain regional credibility, and navigate future regulatory changes successfully.

Syria’s reconstruction will shape the country’s social and economic future for decades. Regional businesses entering the market are therefore not only commercial actors; they are participants in a broader recovery process. Companies that ignore human rights risks may contribute to renewed instability and expose themselves to serious legal, political, and reputational consequences. Those that adopt more responsible approaches, however, are likely to be better positioned for long-term legitimacy, sustainability, and success in Syria’s evolving economy.

Written by: Eyad Hamid, Head of Human Rights & Business Unit, SLDP

In early April 2026, statements by Talal Al-Hilali, head of the Syrian Investment Authority, set off a wave of public alarm. Al-Hilali indicated that the state owns 71 public hospitals and is moving toward granting them to the private sector in partnership with the state, as part of an effort to develop the health sector and improve its efficiency. The backlash was swift, and clarification followed. The Syrian Investment Authority stressed that “health is not for sale”, insisting the comments were not about privatising hospitals but about studying modern management models in partnership with the private sector, with the state remaining “the primary guarantor of treatment”. Syria’s Minister of Health similarly affirmed that medical services will remain free of charge and that there are no plans to privatise public hospitals.

The controversy subsided, but the question it raised did not. Even where full privatisation is off the table, public–private partnerships in healthcare are not without risk. In a country still rebuilding both its institutions and its social contract, those risks warrant serious scrutiny.

What Syrians Think

Public opinion is unambiguous. An April 2026 survey conducted across Damascus, Rural Damascus, and Homs found that 88% of respondents oppose transferring state-run hospitals to the private sector. This is not simply a policy preference–it reflects a population that has endured years of infrastructure collapse, displacement, and the erosion of public services, and which is watching closely to see whether the interim authorities will rebuild the state or hollow it out further.

Satisfaction with public services has dropped sharply since February 2026, falling from 49% to 25%, while dissatisfaction has more than doubled. A combined 62% of respondents report difficulties covering living expenses, and only 13% believe the government is doing enough to address price increases. In this context, any move that could indirectly raise the cost of healthcare, degrade its quality, or restrict its access, is not an abstract concern, but rather a matter of survival.

The Right to Health Under International Law

Healthcare is a human right. Article 12 of the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR) recognises the right of everyone to the enjoyment of the highest attainable standard of physical and mental health. Under General Comment No. 14, the Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights has interpreted this to require that health services be available, accessible, acceptable, and of adequate quality. Crucially, accessibility includes economic accessibility: services must be affordable for all, including the most marginalised.

Under international law, the state bears the primary responsibility to respect, protect, and fulfil this right. This obligation cannot be discharged or delegated to private actors.

The Risks of Private Sector Involvement

Even short of full privatisation, public–private partnerships in healthcare carry well-documented risks.

Profit over people: When healthcare institutions operate under commercial incentives, efficiency tends to be measured in financial terms rather than health outcomes. Services that are costly to provide but essential to vulnerable groups, such as chronic disease management or reproductive health, become liabilities rather than priorities.

Access barriers: Introducing cost-recovery mechanisms, even modest ones, creates access barriers. Analysts have cautioned that without clear ceilings on costs that citizens may have to bear, improving service delivery can become a pretext for imposing additional financial burdens, deepening inequality in access to care.

Digitalisation and exclusion: Syria’s interim authorities have indicated plans to expand digital transformation in the health sector, linking hospital data to improve planning. This is not inherently problematic, but it carries risk. Communities with limited digital literacy, connectivity, or formal documentation risk being excluded or exploited rather than served.

Quality reduction: Privatisation or commercialised management can also result in a degradation of service quality, as providers cut costs to maximise returns. This directly undermines the full realisation of the right to health, in violation of the state’s obligations under international human rights law.

The Broader Danger: Outsourcing Obligation

There is a wider structural risk that deserves attention, particularly as Syria begins engaging with international investment frameworks and reconstruction finance. Scholars have described the emergence of a ‘development as de-risking’ paradigm in which states are gradually reoriented toward protecting the conditions for foreign investment, using public resources to subsidise investor returns, while retreating from the direct provision of public goods. Health, education, water, housing all become potential “asset classes”.

This paradigm is manifest across sub-Saharan Africa, where the privatisation of health systems, through user fees, insurance schemes, and private investment platforms, has deepened inequality and weakened public health infrastructure. Digital health tools have in some instances become surveillance mechanisms, enabling insurers to adjust premiums based on patient data. These outcomes were the structural consequence of a model that places financial returns above public obligation.

The Syrian authorities have given reassurances. But reassurances are not frameworks. Experts have emphasised that the success of any private-sector involvement in public institutions depends on a clear legal framework governing the relationship between the state and investors, transparency in contracts, and effective oversight to prevent monopolies and protect citizens’ rights. In their absence, privatisation can shift from a tool for improving efficiency into a factor that increases burdens on citizens and deepens inequality.

At this critical moment in Syria’s transition, any outsourcing of the state’s human rights obligations, whether through formal privatisation or through the incremental erosion of public provision, would only further undermine trust in state institutions. It would constitute a dereliction of the duty that the current transition exists to fulfil.

What We Are Calling For

The transitional authorities must ensure that any engagement with the private sector in healthcare is:

* Grounded in a binding legal framework that explicitly protects the right to health;
* Subject to independent oversight, with transparent contracts and genuine accountability mechanisms;
* Designed to guarantee that no patient is denied care on financial grounds, nor provided inadequate, inaccessible, or unacceptable services, in line with Syria’s obligations under the ICESCR; and
* Assessed for its differential impact on the most vulnerable, including women, displaced persons, persons with disabilities, and those in low-income areas.

Written by: Alreem Kamal, Legal Officer, Human Rights & Business Unit