A moment of collective grief engulfed Syria on 30 May 2026, when Syria’s National Commission for Missing Persons (NCMP) confirmed the fate of Dr Rania al-Abbasi’s six children.
“We have reached reliable and corroborating results that allow us to conclude with a high degree of professional certainty that Dr Rania Al-Abbasi’s children are deceased,” NCMP said in a statement.
Al-Abbasi, a dentist and former chess champion, had vanished in March 2013 along with her husband, six children, and her assistant, Majdoleen al-Qadi. All of them were forcibly disappeared by Assad’s forces , never to be seen again.
Over the years, the al-Abbasi family came to symbolise the plight of Syria's forcibly disappeared . Today, after the fall of Assad, their case embodies both the hopes and challenges facing the country’s long path towards transitional justice. The scale of Syria's disappeared Dr Rania al-Abbasi and her family were among 177,057 Syrians forcibly disappeared by Assad’s forces, according to the Syrian Network for Human Rights (SNHR).
This figure itself is believed to be a significant undercount, as mass graves - the largest of which was the size of seven football fields - are regularly being discovered across the country.
Throughout Syria’s 14-year conflict, the Assad regime reduced whole cities to rubble through indiscriminate bombardment, and forced disappearances were only one aspect of its industrial-scale repression .
“Addressing the scale of the problem demands a transitional justice process of equal scale. One backed by substantial resources and a national strategy capable of delivering justice to victims while safeguarding a fragile civil peace,” Sana Kikhia, the executive director of the Syrian Legal Program, tells The New Arab .
“Yet, for a country only now emerging from the ruins of a devastating war, the gap between what is needed and what is possible is stark.” Obstacles and pushbacks Over the past 14 years, Syrian civil society organisations in the diaspora have cultivated an impressive skill set in legal documentation, research, and evidence gathering.
They forged networks with international bodies and organisations, securing support, training, and funding.
Legal organisations gathered a trove of evidence and connected with survivors and victims. Their work crafted the only tangible route at that time for accountability, succeeding through universal jurisdiction in bringing some of Assad's criminals to justice in Europe .
For many survivors and families of the disappeared, like the relatives of Dr Rania al-Abbasi, these organisations were the last refuge and the only ones listening to their calls for justice.
But that didn’t seem to impress the new government in Damascus after 2024, who, at the outset, met civil society actors, including legal organisations, with suspicion and, at times, open antagonism.
Political considerations and tests of loyalty became obstacles to any meaningful collaboration, and only a handful of organisations managed to break through in the early days after the Assad regime fell.
Since then, there has been a catastrophic collapse in funding for civil society. Legal organisations were hit particularly hard, forcing many to disband teams and suspend projects.
A state of paralysis occurred at the very moment they needed to exert maximum influence, with many survivors and families of the disappeared feeling let down at a time they most needed the organisations they had relied on in the past.
Slowly, and through sustained effort, civil society managed to reorganise itself and forge paths of communication with the government. The new authorities have also seen the benefits of this relationship, as the depth of the skills shortage in the country’s legal institutions became apparent.
However, not all civil society organisations chose to work with the authorities, as human rights violations committed by government-aligned forces during the coastal massacres and Suweida attacks created new fault lines, pushing some organisations to adopt the position of independent monitors.
Sema Nassar, a human rights documentation specialist focusing on violations in Syria, doesn’t think that this relationship can improve without structural changes.
“The contribution of these civil society experts in Syria is very limited, because of the absence of a safe, transparent institutional mechanism to absorb and make use of this expertise,” she tells The New Arab .
Although civil society-government ties have improved significantly in the last year and a half, they are still not as effective as they can be and have yet to reach their full potential. The theatre of justice For Dr Rania al-Abbasi’s relatives and other families of the disappeared, the day fighters broke into detention centres freeing men, women, and children was a catalyst moment in their search for loved ones.
However, hope soon turned into desperation and anger after the lax attitude of the new authorities in securing evidence found in detention centres was exposed.
This was perhaps a sign of things to come, as it highlighted the reluctance of Damascus’s new rulers to act swiftly and seriously in the early days after the Assad regime fell to pursue transitional justice .
What followed next was 17 months of performative justice that helped the new rulers secure their position, but which has not built the necessary infrastructure for a credible and sustainable transitional justice process.
Mazen Gharibah, a researcher at the London School of Economics (LSE) focusing on Syria and the Middle East, believes the government has handled transitional justice as a tool for politics instead of a tool for justice.
“The way the government is handling the transitional justice process has been selective, politicised, and limited in its scope,” he tells TNA .
“The Syrian government is exclusively focusing on the criminal prosecution of military intelligence officers while neglecting other transitional justice principles such as the reparation of victims, public sector vetting, and most importantly, the institutional and legal reforms of Assad-era laws that were used to oppress Syrians. Some of these laws are currently being enforced to silence some of the opposition voices.”
The government has established a Commission for Transitional Justice and a National Commission for Missing Persons, but the families of the missing and survivors struggle to interact with them.
This lack of transparency and clear communication has made it difficult for the public to see the value of their work. Many Syrians also criticise the appointment of the commissions’ members, with loyalty, prestige, and nepotism trumping expertise and ability.
Other experts in the field point to the struggles the commissions have faced due to under-resourcing, which has limited their ability to recruit people with the needed skill sets.
At the same time, the government has struck deals with some of the Assad regime’s notorious officials and oligarchs, allowing them freedom despite overwhelming evidence of their involvement in war crimes. This has inflamed public anger and undermined the work of the newly formed commissions.
To ease tensions, the Ministry of Justice has started publishing sleek, high-production videos showing Assad-era criminals being dramatically apprehended and then questioned by officials with no consideration for proper legal protocols or the safeguarding of evidence.
The videos have proved to be popular online and feed into an increasingly charged social media sphere. Additionally, the government has begun the public trials of some of the Assad regime’s most notorious officials, such as Atef Najib and Ahmed Hasoon, bringing the victims and the families of the disappeared face to face with perpetrators for the first time.
The court sessions were broadcast live on TV and social media, drawing enormous public attention. However, critics point out that the way the trials were organised already puts justice in jeopardy, as the necessary laws to convict them are yet to be created.
Current laws, for example, do not have a provision for crimes against humanity, genocide, or war crimes. The feverish search for truth Dr Rania al-Abbasi’s relatives, like many other families and survivors, soon lost faith in both the government and Syrian legal organisations to provide answers.
Her brother, Hassan al-Abbasi, has deployed his social media accounts in the search for his sister and her children, but with no guidance, he has followed many false leads over the past year and a half, with each new theory igniting anger and disinformation online.
His latest, however, proved to be tragically true. All six of Dr Rania al-Abbasi’s children were executed by none other than Amjad Youssef , the perpetrator of the Tadamon massacre . Al-Abbasi had even identified the exact video evidence that could prove his claim.
He reached out to both the investigation team that looked into the Tadamon massacre and the authorities but felt unheard. His request was not handled with the urgency and sensitivity it needed, and mistakes were made. His rage, grief, and frustration boiled into the public sphere.
Soon, it was transformed into a campaign driven by social media influencers calling for sectarian revenge against both the killers of the children and one of the members of the original investigation team because of her ethnic background.
Many held al-Abbasi responsible for inflaming public tensions, but Sema Nassar warns against putting responsibility on the families of the disappeared.
“We can't hold the families responsible for inflaming the public mood. It is completely natural that they are angry,” she told TNA .
“The real question is whether we are prepared to deal with that anger. Are the government institutions ready to provide truth and transparency? Is it able to protect civil peace by establishing a credible path to accountability?” The way forward The case of Dr Rania al-Abbasi is one of Syria’s most tragic, but it has also shown the difficult path Syria has to follow to reach transitional justice.
In countries that have emerged from civil wars, transitional justice has been a slow, treacherous, and difficult process. Syria is no different, but the process is in its early stages, and the trajectory is still open for improvement.
In the last few weeks, Syria has witnessed a wave of demonstrations calling for revenge with a dangerous drift towards sectarian violence. Several acts of revenge occurred, claiming the lives of at least three people.
Furthermore, after the fall of the Assad regime, disinformation in Syria has exploded on a scale never seen before. Waves of online trends have held the country captive as more sectarian-driven narratives have taken hold, all against a backdrop of an immense collective trauma and grief that has no clear refuge for healing.
The result is a country that is reeling in pain and frustration, under the influence of a dangerous informational environment.
Sema Nassar warns of a perfect storm that could drive the country towards a bloody civil war if the course is not corrected.
“We need to recognise that transitional justice is not a luxury that can be postponed. It is an essential tool for preventing violence. When it’s taken seriously, it is not just addressing the past, but it is protecting the future,” she told TNA .
For many Syrians, hope is sustained by the relentless will of survivors and the families of the missing to pursue justice and accountability, despite all the setbacks. Muzna Al Naib is a Syrian activist, investigative journalist, and documentary filmmaker. Her work focuses on human rights and the protection of civilians in Syria and the wider Middle East. She serves as an investigator with Dar Justice and is also a co-editor of Syria Notes Edited by Charlie Hoyle