On Transitional Justice and the “Damascus Dossier”

An uproar surrounding the “Damascus Dossier” began immediately after its publication by the German broadcaster NDR, International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (ICIJ) and its partners. 

Former prisoner and journalist Jomana Hasan wrote, “What happened is a disaster and a national scandal. The most important case in Syrian history is being manipulated.” Following publication.

The investigation relied on more than 134,000 leaked documents from the Assad regime's security files–including some 33,000 high-resolution photographs of the bodies of detainees who died in detention centers and military hospitals between 2015 and 2024–documenting the deaths of more than 10,200 detainees.

Syrians frantically began searching the internet for images, names, or traces of their disappeared relatives. Knowing that such files existed yet remained inaccessible imposed a new burden on families, confronting them with the proximity of truth while still denying them the ability to grasp it.

The families remained in the dark. The media outlets that produced the investigation indicated that they shared the data of the identified detainees with multiple human rights and legal organizations. These include the Syrian Center for Legal Studies and Research, the Independent Institution for Missing Persons in Syria (IIMP), the Syrian Network for Human Rights (SNHR), and the Ta'afi Initiative–however, statements issued by some of these organizations contradicted the ICIJ and its partners. 

The IIMP said in a statement that it was “closely monitoring the reactions of the families” and emphasized that it “is not and has not been part of the preparation of the report or the recent investigation that is being circulated”. The (SNHR) also stated that it had not received any photos or documents directly related to the investigation but only obtained tables containing “preliminary data” on approximately 1,500 victims, the vast majority of whom were already registered in its databases. 

To many Syrians, this was not merely disrespectful but a direct assault on the dignity of victims. 

But it goes much further. It is not merely a matter of people’s feelings—though those matter profoundly—but of the integrity of the transitional justice process itself.

Transitional justice, especially in a country emerging from over half a century of totalitarian rule and fourteen years of systematic mass violence, is not a theoretical field. It is the process through which truth is reintroduced into public life after decades in which truth itself was criminalized, the method by which dignity is restored in a society, and the means through which trust is rebuilt in a society shattered by pervasive surveillance, coercion, and fear. 

These are not abstract ideals but operational principles. They depend on documentation systems that meet strict judicial standards and on an ethical commitment to victims that cannot be compromised by journalistic spectacle.

To comprehend the detrimental impact of how the journalists in this case operated, it is also important to keep in mind the involvement of Western media in Syria more generally. For nearly a decade, international journalists used the Syrian conflict for sensationalism—siege footage, chemical attack reports, frontline reports, and refugee tragedies. They extracted stories, amplified individual suffering, rarely structures of accountability. And crucially, they treated Syrians as raw material for content more often than as custodians of their own justice.

The field of transitional justice—originating from Latin American truth commissions, developed in post-apartheid South Africa, evaluated in the Balkans, and formalized through international law—relies on a rigorous chain of custody of evidence, a definitive provenance for each document, and a professional regard for the victims whose suffering is documented in those records. And the absence of an unbroken chain of custody jeopardizes the legal acceptability of the documents.

Even the Caesar files—one of the most important archives in most important archives on contemporary crimes against humanity—show how demanding the evidentiary process really is. 

When the military photographer “Caesar” smuggled out tens of thousands of images from Assad’s prisons, the files did not instantly become evidence. They underwent a lengthy, multi-layered verification: forensic authentication of the images, reconstruction of chain of custody, corroboration with defectors, and cross-referencing with families of the disappeared. It took years before courts in Europe agreed the archive met the strict standards required for universal jurisdiction trials.

In Syria today, this commitment to safeguard evidence is indispensable. The fall of the regime did not simplify the landscape of evidence; it exponentially expanded it. 

Tens of thousands of documents are emerging from security branches. Detention centers long hidden from public sight are being uncovered, mass graves are being excavated, and families of the disappeared are filing claims at a pace unprecedented in the region. Newly formed accountability bodies—whether domestic courts, the national documentation authority, or international partners—must process a vast and sensitive archive that will shape Syria’s legal memory for generations.

In such a context, even a single document’s provenance matters. A single broken chain of custody can render evidence inadmissible. When journalists engage in this process without comprehending its legal framework, they do not expedite justice; they hinder it. 

The profound sorrow is that this moment—of all moments—ought to have been distinct. For the first time since the 1970s, Syrians are responsible for judicial rehabilitation. 

Long-buried archives within intelligence agencies are undergoing cataloging, victims' relatives are filing claims with Syrian institutions instead of foreign NGOs, and domestic courts are poised to prosecute those implicated in systemic crimes.

The Damascus Dossier could have reinforced this emergent ecosystem by delivering documents through proper channels, verifying chain of custody, and collaborating with Syrian legal professionals and the national commission for the missing–instead, it created another chapter in the long history of external actors asserting ownership over Syrian suffering.

Transitional justice in Syria's post-regime context entails more than mere symbolic trials or international summits. It necessitates a methodical approach to reconstruct legality from the remnants of a police state, which requires diligence, moderation, and deep reverence for the victims whose identities and destinies are encapsulated in each page. 

Judicial proceedings obligate a curtailment of the opportunistic tendencies that have historically influenced Western media coverage in Syria, inclinations that transform trauma into “content”, evidence into exclusive material, and Syrians into subjects of someone else’s story.

Image Credits: Dawn Clancy (@dawnmclancy on X.com, formerly Twitter)