Since the Syrian uprising began in 2011, tens of thousands of Syrians have disappeared or been forcibly detained.
With the fall of the Assad regime in December 2024, mass graves began surfacing across the country, exposing the regime’s systematic efforts to secretly dispose of bodies.
The most notable recent discovery is a mass grave in Al-Qutayfah, near Damascus, containing at least 100,000 bodies. The victims are believed to have been tortured to death or executed in military hospitals and prisons across the country.
Fadel Abdulghany, the head of the Syrian Network for Human Rights (SNHR), told The New Arab that his organisation has documented at least 113,218 individuals detained or disappeared in Syria between March 2011 and August 2024.
“We need to ensure that the issue of mass graves is handled in a way that respects the dignity of the deceased, achieves justice for the victims, and holds the perpetrators accountable,” Fadel told The New Arab.
He emphasised the importance of preserving the integrity of mass grave sites, saying, “The SNHR advises preventing tampering and desecration of gravesites, documenting these sites and installing landmarks. Above all, we must respect the dignity of the deceased.”
Recognising the enormity of this crisis, the United Nations General Assembly established an independent body in June 2023 to investigate the fates of Syria’s missing.
A witness to atrocity
Smaller gravesites are being uncovered across Syria, shedding light on the scale of the regime’s brutality. One site is run by Abu Sham, a gravesite caretaker from Homs.
Abu Sham oversees the Tal Al Nasr cemetery, where he says he has buried thousands of bodies since the revolution began in 2011. Speaking to The New Arab, he recounted years of forced complicity in the Assad regime’s operations.
“Since 2011, my cemetery became a silent witness to the atrocities committed by the regime,” he said. “I would receive bodies from them every single day.”
Abu Sham explained how the regime often called him to collect corpses. “Sometimes, I would retrieve them from the Military Hospital in Homs. Other times, regime officials delivered the bodies directly to me.”
Abu Sham says that upon arrival, the bodies would be piled up on top of each other in the morgue of the Al Shaheed Abdelqadr Shufa military hospital, a place notorious for the torture and execution of activists and defected soldiers.
From people to numbers
The bodies bore the physical scars of brutality. “They were often decomposed, tortured, or burnt,” Abu Sham recounted. “They told me not to tell anyone about the graves.”
In rare instances, he recognised the victims as people from his community. He attempted to help grieving families locate the graves of their loved ones. “I was arrested several times for trying to tell families where their loved ones were buried,” he said.
“The regime reduced people’s identities to mere digits”
Abu Sham meticulously recorded burial locations in several notebooks, detailing grave numbers and, occasionally, names. “If they considered someone a ‘terrorist,’ they didn’t provide a name, just a number,” he explained. “The regime reduced people’s identities to mere digits.”
On some of the worst days, he buried up to 50 bodies, estimating that the cemetery holds thousands of victims. He described using metal sheets to separate corpses, a grim detail corroborated by two eyewitnesses who assisted him.
“On some occasions, they brought bodies in vans at night. I never asked questions,” he said. “I simply took the bodies and buried them.”
“I tried to give them a decent burial, as much as I possibly could,” he told The New Arab. “I would wash them when I could and pray over them. But beyond that, I could do nothing. I asked God to have mercy on their souls.”
Breaking the silence
For years, fear silenced Abu Sham. He refrained from informing families about their loved ones’ graves due to threats from regime forces. But with Assad’s fall, he felt compelled to speak out.
“I just want to reunite people with the graves of their family members,” he said. “It’s something I couldn’t do during the regime’s reign.”
Abu Sham is now working with authorities in Homs to locate and identify the bodies buried at Tal Al Nasr.
remains from a mass grave uncovered in Damascus [Getty]
Families in agony
The pain of Syria’s missing is not confined to the gravesites. Across the country, families are desperately searching for loved ones.
“We are glad Assad is gone, but we are a nation in mourning. Until we find those missing and give them a proper burial, our wounds will never heal”
Jihad, a 33-year-old driver from Damascus whose brother disappeared at the start of the revolution, told The New Arab: “My brother vanished in the early days of the uprising. We suspect he was detained in one of the prisons, but we have no proof.
“When the regime fell and he didn’t come out with the other prisoners, we knew he was dead. My mother mourned him all over again.”
Jihad’s story is echoed by countless others. “We are glad Assad is gone, but we are a nation in mourning. Until we find those missing and give them a proper burial, our wounds will never heal.”
A nation’s open wound
The regime’s tactics: marking victims as numbers, erasing identities, and disposing of bodies in secrecy were deliberate attempts to dehumanise its opponents and suppress dissent.
These actions have created a national tragedy that goes beyond the visible destruction of the war.
For families like Jihad’s, the pain remains raw.
“We are a nation with an open wound,” he said. “Finding our missing loved ones and giving them the respect they deserve is the first step toward healing.”
Salwa Amor is an independent documentary maker. Most recently she was one of the producers of the award-winning BBC Panorama two-part series Children of Syria
