After every war or conflict, a recurring dilemma arises in the form of a single question: Do we prioritize peace over justice, or pursue justice even at the expense of stability?

This question is starkly evident in Syria, at the heart of the decisions currently being made about the country’s future. Since the fall of the Assad regime in December 2024 and the formation of the transitional government, Syrians have witnessed an increasing tendency to treat justice as a threat to civil peace and reconciliation. The official discourse now warns against “reopening past wounds,” implying that the pursuit of accountability could reignite chaos.

The establishment of the National Commission for Transitional Justice by Presidential Decree No. 20, with its narrow mandate and exclusionary vision, was the latest worrying embodiment of this logic. Adding to this was the recent press conference on June 10, 2025, held by Mr. Hassan Soufan, spokesperson for the “Committee for Civil Peace.”

This narrative is not new. From Latin America to Africa, from the Balkans to Southeast Asia, transitional authorities have repeatedly bargained justice away in the name of what they call “stability.” And time and again, history has shown that this trade-off is shortsighted, dangerous, and counterproductive.

Syria must not repeat these mistakes. We must reject this false dichotomy between peace and justice and understand that genuine and lasting civil peace can only be built upon inclusive and participatory justice that centers the victims.

The Illusion of Peace Without Justice

When political elites describe justice as a threat to stability, they often do so in the name of “political realism.” They say: This will stir tensions, we must focus on the future. But who decides which past is forgotten? And what kind of future are we planning for if the wounds of millions are left unacknowledged?

In Syria, this rhetoric is quietly resurfacing. The decisions of the transitional government indicate a tendency to manage the past, not confront it. Victims of non-state armed groups and foreign interventions have been excluded from the transitional justice agenda. Commitments to truth-seeking remain conditional, and reparations are still undefined. As for the perpetrators of crimes, many of whom are now part of the state institutions, they are being spared accountability.

But this approach does not create peace; it merely delays confrontation. It leaves victims’ wounds open, trust fragile, and societal divisions deeper. Peace without justice is an illusion. Justice, at its core, does not threaten peace, it enables it.

Lessons from Other Experiences

Global experiences in transitional justice not only offer warnings but also guideposts. For example, South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission—despite the controversy and imperfections surrounding it—provided a space for acknowledgment, listening, and reckoning. Many of the apartheid regime’s criminals were not prosecuted, but the process helped establish a shared national narrative, recognized the suffering of victims, and offered a model of healing through truth.

Contrast this with Guatemala, where a peace agreement was signed in 1996 without genuine accountability. The war ended, but justice was never delivered to the victims of genocide against the Indigenous Maya. The result? A divided society, a culture of impunity, and recurring waves of violence and repression.

In Bosnia and Herzegovina, the Dayton Agreement ended the war but froze the country in a state of ethnic division. The International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia prosecuted some leaders, but the lack of local, participatory justice meant communities never saw justice done in their own reality. Today, opposing nationalist narratives continue to fuel tension and hinder reconciliation.

Yet in Tunisia, despite political challenges, the Truth and Dignity Commission succeeded in inserting victims’ voices into public discourse. It documented thousands of testimonies and produced a comprehensive report linking justice to dignity and belonging.

These examples are far from perfect, but they affirm a fundamental truth: Justice is not a luxury that can be postponed or ignored—it is the cornerstone of lasting peace.

The Syrian context is complex, but not exceptional

Some argue that Syria is too complex to bear the burden of implementing true and comprehensive justice at this time. There are too many actors, too many crimes, and countless wounds. But it is precisely this complexity that makes justice not a luxury, but a necessity.

Many Syrians, across political and social affiliations, have demanded justice, not in the spirit of revenge, but of recognition, dignity, and rebuilding public trust. Victim groups such as Families for Freedom and the Caesar Families Association, among many others, have issued calls for truth, accountability, and reparation. Civil society organizations have documented, archived, and engaged with international justice mechanisms despite threats and restrictions. The new Syrian authorities must understand: these groups are not opponents of civil peace, they are its guardians. They have preserved the memory of abuses not to inflame sectarianism or reignite conflict, but to ensure that such violations are never repeated.

What is Justice?

Justice is not just courts and prisons, it is a comprehensive process that restores dignity to victims, repairs social trust, and reforms institutions.

Truth: Syrians have the right to know what happened, who is responsible, and how violations were carried out. Public truth-telling is not symbolic: it is a prerequisite for genuine national reconciliation.

Accountability: Perpetrators of major crimes must be prosecuted, regardless of their political or military status. This includes officials from both the former and current regimes, opposition leaders, and foreign actors.

Reparation: Victims must be compensated, not only financially, but through acknowledgment, psychological support, and legal and social rehabilitation. Reparation sends a message: what happened to you matters, and the state recognizes your pain.

Institutional Reform: Security and judicial institutions cannot lead the new phase without review. They must undergo vetting, reform, and be subjected to civilian oversight.

Participation: Victims and civil society must have a role in shaping justice—planning, implementing, and evaluating the process.

This vision of justice is not only morally sound, but politically realistic. Societies that neglect justice remain vulnerable to collapse. Those that confront their past build more cohesive and resilient states.

The Danger of Partial Justice

Today, the Syrian transitional government stands at a crucial crossroads. It can use justice as a bridge to rebuild a shattered society or politicize it, turning it into a tool for settling scores or consolidating power.

The second option is tempting for those seeking control. But history tells us: peace built on silence is fragile. A commission that only investigates the crimes of the Assad regime while ignoring violations by other actors does not deliver justice, it reproduces injustice.

Victims of ISIS, Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham, armed opposition groups, the prisons of the Autonomous Administration, and Russian, American, and Turkish airstrikes all deserve truth and reparation. Selective justice fuels anger, deepens divides, and entrenches a culture of impunity.

Let us redefine reconciliation: it is not forgiveness without accountability, nor coexistence built on denial. True reconciliation begins with acknowledgment, responsibility, and mechanisms to prevent recurrence.

In Colombia, the peace agreement with FARC included a transitional justice pathway shaped by victims. The Special Jurisdiction for Peace (JEP) offered a model that combined accountability with truth and restorative justice. The process is slow and imperfect, but it sparked a national dialogue on responsibility and healing.

Syria deserves no less. There can be no reconciliation without a shared narrative of what happened. Otherwise, peace becomes an illusion, and reconciliation an empty slogan.

Justice is the foundation, not the obstacle. The Syrian uprising began, in part, as a call for justice: for the child tortured in Daraa, for the families of the disappeared, for the dignity of all Syrians. Abandoning justice now is a betrayal of that beginning.

Civil peace is not the absence of conflict, it is the presence of fairness, inclusion, and acknowledgment. When implemented properly, transitional justice does not divide society, it unites it. It creates a shared moral horizon, a space where Syrians can meet, not with fear or hatred, but with mutual recognition and dignity.

To the transitional authorities: do not fear justice. The future cannot be built on unacknowledged wounds. Justice is not the enemy of peace. It is its beating heart.