In a move framed as a landmark in Syria’s post-Assad transition, President Ahmad al-Sharaa signed two presidential decrees on Saturday establishing the National Commission for Transitional Justice and the National Commission for the Missing. Both bodies, according to official statements, are meant to signal a new phase of accountability, reconciliation, and institutional reform after more than a decade of brutal conflict and systematic repression. Yet for many Syrians—particularly survivors, families of the disappeared, and human rights advocates—these appointments have stirred unease rather than hope.
A Symbolic Break with the Past?
The establishment of the two commissions comes five months after the fall of Bashar al-Assad’s regime and three days after the United States announced the lifting of sanctions on Syria, following a surprise meeting between al-Sharaa and President Donald Trump in Riyadh. The decrees claim to derive legitimacy from the provisional constitutional declaration and underscore the importance of uncovering the truth, ensuring non-repetition, and recognizing the rights of victims.
The National Commission for Transitional Justice, according to Decree No. 20, is tasked with investigating grave human rights violations committed under the former regime, coordinating with relevant authorities to ensure accountability, and laying the foundation for national reconciliation. It is to be headed by Abdel Baset Abdel Latif, a former police officer and opposition politician. Simultaneously, the National Commission for the Missing, chaired by Dr. Mohammad Rida Jalkhi, is charged with tracing the fate of tens of thousands of forcibly disappeared or missing persons, building a comprehensive database, and supporting the victims’ families.
Both commissions were granted financial and administrative independence and given a 30-day window to establish internal regulations and operational teams.
Legitimacy and Representation in Question
While the initiative appears promising in principle, its implementation has been met with intense skepticism and, in some cases, outright rejection.
At the heart of the controversy is the appointment of Abdel Baset Abdel Latif, a figure whose career traverses Syria’s complex and violent political landscape. A former district police chief in Qamishli under Assad, Abdel Latif defected in 2012, later joining the ranks of the Free Syrian Army and serving in opposition political platforms including the Syrian National Coalition. Yet for many activists and victims—particularly those from Syria’s Kurdish regions—his past remains a red flag.
Faisal Badr, a Kurdish lawyer and human rights defender, accused Abdel Latif of direct involvement in the suppression of peaceful demonstrations and complicity in the killing of protesters during the 2011 funeral of Meshaal Tammo. “The regime invested in repression through people like him,” Badr wrote. “His past disqualifies him from overseeing any credible process of justice.”
Others have questioned Abdel Latif’s qualifications altogether. “His experience in transitional justice is no greater than mine in particle physics,” wrote Wael Sawah, a Syrian activist and president of the California-based Pro-Justice organization, arguing that the appointment excludes seasoned legal experts such as Mazen Darwish, Jumana Seif, and Anwar al-Bunni.
This critique was echoed by Fadel Abdul Ghany, director of the Syrian Network for Human Rights (SNHR), who described the formation of the commissions by presidential decree rather than legislation as a fundamental flaw. “Creating transitional justice bodies without a law passed by an elected legislative council undermines their legal legitimacy and weakens their independence,” he told Syria TV.
According to SNHR, such commissions should not be under the executive’s purview. The lack of clear selection criteria, the absence of civil society involvement, and the failure to engage victim associations point to a top-down process devoid of genuine consultation—conditions that severely limit the commissions’ credibility.
Abdul Ghany also warned against the fragmentation of transitional justice mechanisms. He argued that the Missing Persons Commission should not operate as a separate entity, but rather as part of a broader truth-seeking process coordinated across reparations, institutional reform, and memorialization efforts. Fragmentation, he cautioned, would entrench bureaucratic inefficiency and obscure accountability.
In a comprehensive report published earlier this year, SNHR outlined a vision for transitional justice rooted in legal legitimacy, victim participation, and structural independence—citing successful international models from South Africa, Argentina, and Tunisia. The report stressed the need for financial autonomy, investigative powers, and pluralistic representation to ensure community trust and justice ownership.
Justice for Whom?
The criticism is not limited to individuals or the process of formation. At a structural level, legal analysts and human rights organizations warn that the very framing of the commissions—particularly their exclusive focus on crimes committed by the Assad regime—risks transforming transitional justice into a tool of political score-settling rather than national healing.
Mohammad al-Abdallah, director of the Syria Justice and Accountability Center, warned that all major actors in the Syrian conflict—including opposition factions, Kurdish forces, Islamist groups, and foreign militaries—have committed violations. “If justice is selective, it becomes a softer version of revenge,” he wrote. “Real justice must be independent, impartial, and universal—or it will deepen divisions rather than heal them.”
Writer Mohammad Dibo added that the current trajectory reflects “selective justice, not transitional justice.” True accountability, he stressed, must extend to all victims, regardless of their identity or the affiliation of the perpetrator.
Even the Commission for the Missing, widely seen as less politically charged, has drawn criticism. Though Mohammad Rida Jalkhi is a respected academic, critics point to his close ties with the transitional government—he serves as dean of the Faculty of Political Science and sits on the constitutional drafting committee—as a potential conflict of interest. SNHR, in its position paper, argued that these factors further weaken the commission’s independence and public trust.
The Dilemma of HTS and the “New Order”
Looming over these developments is a broader concern: the role of Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) in shaping Syria’s transitional architecture. Though HTS has sought to rebrand itself as a responsible stakeholder, it remains implicated in widespread abuses—including arbitrary detention and torture—especially in areas it currently controls.
For many observers, the elephant in the room is whether the transitional justice process will ever hold HTS accountable. As al-Abdallah noted, “If the commission were to open the door to prosecutions of all actors, calls for accountability could quickly extend to HTS itself. This is the heart of the dilemma.”
Justice Deferred?
For Syria’s transitional justice effort to succeed, it must be seen as a national project—not a political instrument. It must include all victims, address all violations, and operate with structural and procedural independence from those in power. Without this, the process risks becoming another layer of exclusion and impunity dressed in legal robes.
As Fadel Abdul Ghany and others have emphasized, the opportunity for justice must not be squandered by shortcuts and symbolic gestures. “Justice cannot be delivered by decree,” he noted. “It must be built—deliberately, lawfully, and with those who suffered most at its center.”
In the end, the challenge before Syria’s new authorities is not just to signal reform, but to institutionalize it. Without justice for all, there will be no reconciliation. And without reconciliation, there can be no peace worth its name.
