Long Silenced by Fear, Syrians Now Speak about Rampant Torture under Assad

People walk through a corridor of Syria's infamous Saydnaya military prison, just north of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 9, 2024. (AP)
People walk through a corridor of Syria's infamous Saydnaya military prison, just north of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 9, 2024. (AP)
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Long Silenced by Fear, Syrians Now Speak about Rampant Torture under Assad

People walk through a corridor of Syria's infamous Saydnaya military prison, just north of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 9, 2024. (AP)
People walk through a corridor of Syria's infamous Saydnaya military prison, just north of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 9, 2024. (AP)

Handcuffed and squatting on the floor, Abdullah Zahra saw smoke rising from his cellmate’s flesh as his torturers gave him electric shocks.

Then it was Zahra’s turn. They hanged the 20-year-old university student from his wrists and electrocuted and beat him for two hours. They made his father watch and taunted him about his son’s torment.

That was 2012, and the entire security apparatus of Syria’s then-President Bashar Assad was deployed to crush the protests against his rule.

With Assad’s fall a month ago, the machinery of death that he ran is starting to come out into the open.

It was systematic and well-organized, growing to more than 100 detention facilities into which tens of thousands disappeared over more than a decade. Torture, sexual violence and mass executions were rampant, according to rights groups and former prisoners.

A blanket of fear kept Syrians silent about their experiences or lost loved ones. But now, everyone is talking. After the insurgents who swept Assad out of power on Dec. 8 opened prisons and detention facilities, crowds swarmed in, searching for answers, bodies of loved ones, and ways to heal.

The Associated Press visited seven of these facilities in Damascus and spoke to nine former detainees. Some details of the accounts by those who spoke to the AP could not be independently confirmed, but they matched past reports by former detainees to human rights groups.

Days after Assad’s fall, Zahra — now 33 — came to visit Branch 215, a detention facility run by military intelligence in Damascus where he was held for two months.

There, he said, he was kept in a windowless underground cell, 4-by-4-meters (yards) and crammed with 100 other inmates. When ventilators were cut off -- either intentionally or because of a power failure -- some suffocated. Men went mad; torture wounds festered. When a cellmate died, they stowed his body next to the cell’s toilet until jailers collected corpses, Zahra said.

“Death was the least bad thing,” he said. “We reached a place where death was easier than staying here for one minute.”

A member of the security forces for the new interim Syrian government stands next to prison cells at the Palestine Branch, a detention facility operated by the General Intelligence Agency during Bashar al-Assad's regime, in Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 14, 2024. (AP)

Assad’s system of repression grew as civil war raged

After he and his father were released, Zahra fled to opposition-held areas. Within a few months, security agents returned and dragged off 13 of his male relatives, including a younger brother and, again, his father.

All were killed. Zahra later recognized their bodies among photos leaked by a defector showing thousands killed in detention. Their bodies were never recovered.

Rights groups estimate at least 150,000 people went missing since anti-government protests began in 2011, most vanishing into detention facilities. Many were killed, either in mass executions or from torture and prison conditions. The exact number remains unknown.

Even before the uprising, Assad had ruled with an iron fist. But as protests turned into a civil war that would last 14 years, Assad expanded his system of repression. New detention facilities run by military, security and intelligence agencies sprung up in security compounds, military airports and under buildings.

At Branch 215, Zahra hoped to find some sign of his lost relatives. But there was nothing. At home, his aunt, Rajaa Zahra, looked at the leaked pictures of her killed children for the first time – something she had long refused to do. She lost four of her six sons in Assad’s crackdowns. Her brother, she said, lost two of his three sons.

“They were hoping to finish off all the young men of the country.”

A site believed to be a mass grave for detainees killed under Bashar al-Assad's rule is visible in Najha, south of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 17, 2024. (AP)

Syrians were tortured with ‘the tire’ and ‘magic carpet’

The tortures had names. One was called the “magic carpet,” where a detainee was strapped to a hinged wooden plank that bends in half, folding his head to his feet, which were then beaten.

Abdul-Karim Hajeko said he endured this five times. His torturers stomped on his back during interrogations at the Criminal Security branch, and his vertebrae are still broken.

“My screams would go to heaven. Once a doctor came down from the fourth floor (to the ground floor) because of my screams,” he said.

He was also put in “the tire.” His legs were bent inside a car tire as interrogators beat his back and feet. Afterward, they ordered him to kiss the tire and thank it for teaching him “how to behave.”

Many prisoners said the tire was inflicted for rule violations -- like making noise, raising one’s head in front of guards, or praying – or for no reason at all.

Saleh Turki Yahia said a cellmate died nearly every day during the seven months in 2012 he was held at the Palestine Branch, a detention facility run by the General Intelligence Agency. He said he was given electric shocks, hanged from his wrists, beaten on his feet. He lost half his body weight and nearly tore his own skin scratching from scabies.

“They broke us,” he said, breaking into tears as he visited the Palestine Branch. “A whole generation is destroyed.”

Documents are scattered around Branch 215, a detention facility run by Bashar al-Assad's regime, in Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 17, 2024. (AP)

The mounting evidence will be used in trials

Now comes the monumental task of accounting for the missing and compiling evidence that could one day be used to prosecute Assad’s officials, whether by Syrian or international courts.

Hundreds of thousands of documents remain scattered throughout detention facilities. Some seen by the AP included transcripts of phone conversations; intelligence files on activists; and a list of hundreds of prisoners killed in detention. At least 15 mass graves have been identified around Damascus and elsewhere around the country.

A UN body known as the International Impartial and Independent Mechanism has offered to help the new interim administration in collecting, organizing and analyzing all the material. Since 2011, it has been compiling evidence and supporting investigations in over 200 criminal cases against figures in Assad’s government.

Many want answers now.

Officials cannot just declare that the missing are presumed dead, said Wafaa Mustafa, a Syrian journalist, whose father was detained and killed 12 years ago.

“No one gets to tell the families what happened without evidence, without search, without work.”



Palestinian Children in East Jerusalem Could Lose Their Schools as Israeli-Ordered Closures Loom 

Laith Shweikeh, 9, sits at his desk at the UNRWA Boys' School run by the UN agency for Palestinian refugees in the Shuafat Refugee Camp in east Jerusalem, Tuesday, April 29, 2025. (AP)
Laith Shweikeh, 9, sits at his desk at the UNRWA Boys' School run by the UN agency for Palestinian refugees in the Shuafat Refugee Camp in east Jerusalem, Tuesday, April 29, 2025. (AP)
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Palestinian Children in East Jerusalem Could Lose Their Schools as Israeli-Ordered Closures Loom 

Laith Shweikeh, 9, sits at his desk at the UNRWA Boys' School run by the UN agency for Palestinian refugees in the Shuafat Refugee Camp in east Jerusalem, Tuesday, April 29, 2025. (AP)
Laith Shweikeh, 9, sits at his desk at the UNRWA Boys' School run by the UN agency for Palestinian refugees in the Shuafat Refugee Camp in east Jerusalem, Tuesday, April 29, 2025. (AP)

Standing in the east Jerusalem school he attended as a young boy, Palestinian construction worker Ahmad Shweikeh studies his son’s careful penmanship. This classroom may be closed Friday, leaving 9-year-old Laith with nowhere to study.

Shweikeh, 38, says he wants Laith — a shy boy, top of his class — to become a surgeon.

"I never expected this," Shweikeh said. "I watched some of my classmates from here become engineers and doctors. I hoped Laith would follow in their footsteps."

The school is one of six across east Jerusalem run by the United Nations agency for Palestinian refugees called UNRWA. Israeli soldiers in riot gear showed up at the schools last month and ordered them to shut down within 30 days. Now parents worry that their children will lose precious opportunities to learn. And they fret for their children's safety if they are made to enroll in Israeli schools.

The closure orders come after Israel banned UNRWA from operating on Israeli soil earlier this year, the culmination of a long campaign against the agency that intensified following the Hamas attacks on Israel Oct. 7, 2023.

UNRWA is the main provider of education and health care to Palestinian refugees across east Jerusalem, which Israel captured in the 1967 Mideast war. While UNRWA schools in the Israeli-occupied West Bank have not received closing orders, the closures have left in limbo the nearly 800 Palestinian students in first through ninth grade in east Jerusalem. Israel has annexed east Jerusalem and considers the entire city its unified capital.

Israel says it will reassign students to other schools The Israeli Ministry of Education says it will place the students into other Jerusalem schools. But parents, teachers and administrators caution that closing the main schools for the children of Palestinian refugees in east Jerusalem promises a surge in absenteeism.

For students in the Shuafat refugee camp, like Laith, switching to Israeli schools means crossing the hulking barrier that separates their homes from the rest of Jerusalem every day.

Some students aren’t even eligible to use the crossing, said Fahed Qatousa, the deputy principal of the UNRWA boys’ school in Shuafat. About 100 students in UNRWA schools in Shuafat have West Bank identifications, which will complicate their entry past the barrier, according to Qatousa.

"I will not in any way send Laith to a school where he has to go through a checkpoint or traffic," Shweikeh said.

In a statement to The Associated Press, the Israeli Ministry of Education said it was closing the schools because they were operating without a license. The agency promised "quality educational solutions, significantly higher in level than that provided in the institutions that were closed." It said that it would "ensure the immediate and optimal integration of all students."

Qatousa fears the students will lose their chance to be educated.

"Israeli schools are overcrowded and cannot take a large number of students. This will lead to a high rate of not attending schools among our students. For girls, they will marry earlier. For boys, they will join the Israeli job market," Qatousa said.

Laith remembers the moment last month when the troops entered his school.

"The soldiers talked to the schoolteachers and told them that they were going to close the school," Laith said. "I don’t want the school to close. I want to stay here and continue to complete my education."

His teacher, Duaa Zourba, who has worked at the school for 21 years, said teachers were "psychologically hurt" by Israel's order.

"Some of the teachers panicked. They started crying because of the situation, because they were very upset with that, with the decisions. I mean, how can we leave this place? We’ve been here for years. We have our own memories," Zourba said.

Israel claims that UNRWA schools teach antisemitic content and anti-Israel sentiment. An UNRWA review of textbooks in 2022-2023 found that just under 4% of pages contained "issues of concern to UN values, guidance, or position on the conflict."

An independent panel reviewed the neutrality of UNRWA after Israel alleged that a dozen of its employees in Gaza participated in Hamas’ Oct. 7 attacks. The panel issued a series of recommendations, including that UNRWA adopt a "zero-tolerance policy" on antisemitic views or hate speech in textbooks.

The Israeli Education Ministry says parents have been directed to register their children at other schools in Jerusalem. Parents told the AP they have not done so.

Zourba said she still plans to hold exams as scheduled for late May. UNRWA administrators pledged to keep the schools open for as long as possible — until Israeli authorities force them to shut down.

The day AP reporters visited the school, Israeli police fired tear gas into the school’s front yard as boys played soccer outside. The gas billowed through the hallways, sending children sprinting indoors, drooling, coughing and crying.

Police spokesperson Mirit Ben Mayor said the forces were responding to rock-throwing inside the camp but denied targeting the school specifically.

As gas filtered through the school, Zourba donned a disposable mask and ran to check on her students.

"As teachers in Shuafat, our first job has always been to ensure the protection and the safety of our kids," she said. "Whenever there’s a raid, we close windows. We close doors so that they don’t smell very heavy tear gas."

"The goal," she said, "is for the kids to always think of this school as a safe place, to remember that there’s a place for them."