“I think it will take me years to realize. I feel like I am still in a dream and that it’s not really happening,” says Bushra al-Zoubi, a 31-year-old Syrian activist in France. “I never imagined I could participate in politics or the transition in Syria. And now it can happen.”
Al-Zoubi had to leave her hometown of Daraa in Syria when she was 18. “Daraa was the birthplace of the revolution, and there are many women in my family, and we were in danger from the rapes, the houses being burned, and so on. So, it wasn’t possible to stay,” she recalls. They crossed the border on foot into Jordan, where she spent nine years in Amman.
She received a study grant at the prestigious Paris Institute of Political Studies, known as Sciences Po, in France, before securing a 10-year international protection guarantee and official refugee status. She navigates life in France between emancipation and shock, juggling freelance translation work and a position as an assistant at Reporters Without Borders, feeling neither completely French nor Syrian anymore. “I started to become more politicized here, and I am acting to give representation to the women coming from the south of Syria,” she explains.
In the aftermath of Bashar al-Assad’s fall, European states rushed to make contradictory statements on the status of asylum-seekers from Syria, in some cases suspending asylum applications and reassessing asylum conditions, and at times also encouraging or forcing their return.
For Syrians exiled in Europe, this historic and liberating moment turned into a source of instability and fear. Meanwhile, the fall of the regime meant the possibility of returning, even temporarily, to reunite with loved ones who remained in the country or went missing, as well as to assess the situation there. Those who were not citizens of European countries, however, often faced the prospect of not being allowed to come back if they made the trip. Human rights collectives have called for special provisions given the exceptional nature of the situation.
The challenges also highlight the larger dilemma facing Syrians. Although they are still euphoric over the fall of an oppressive dynasty that ruled the country for decades, many of those who fled have built lives abroad that are not so easily abandoned.
On Dec. 8, when the Assad regime fell, al-Zoubi was in Paris, where she had been living for three years. “I couldn’t sleep, I was too excited, so I watched the news,” she remembers. When Hayat Tahrir al-Sham took over Damascus and overthrew a regime of terror and despair, al-Zoubi and the 8 million Syrians around the world were overwhelmed by a wave of mixed emotions. “It was more than moving to see one of the worst contemporary dictatorships fall,” she says. She remembers feeling optimistic because “it could not be worse than Bashar al-Assad.”
“Today, several scenarios can unfold. With Assad, there was only one and no hope,” she adds.
In the following days, more than 279,000 refugees (mostly in nearby countries like Lebanon, Jordan and Turkey) retraced the journey they made years ago — over a decade for some. “When Bashar fell, all the journalists I know went to Syria. I was so jealous at first, I wanted to go too. If I could, I would have gone the next day, but I would have lost my protection,” al-Zoubi remembers with regret. In December, because of her status in France, she could not even consider the question of whether or not to return, even temporarily.
She is one of the 45,000 Syrians living in France with refugee status. There are more than 780,000 with similar status across the European Union, according to Eurostat. The Geneva Convention states that protection granted through refugee status ends if a person “voluntarily reclaims protection from the country of which they are a national.” Despite their documents and valid status in the EU, refugees normally don’t even have the option to return. They would need to wait for their naturalization or return to Syria and lose their protection, along with their current documents.
Al-Zoubi felt a double injustice: Having fought to secure her refugee status, she was free to travel anywhere but her own country, which was now liberated and transformed. “In Jordan, I wasn’t even authorized to travel within the country. Then, in France, I’ve spent two and a half years trapped and stressed,” she says. Since Dec. 8, she has been constantly in touch with her sister, who lives in the suburbs of Damascus and has a daughter whom al-Zoubi has never met. This connection is crucial to her while she is away.
In the face of this challenge, she and other Syrians have mobilized to change the situation. And it has worked — to some extent. “It all started with a discussion with fellow protesters, with whom we were working to denounce the ignorance surrounding the files of the disappeared,” she says. They formed the collective “Liberte d’Agir, Droit de Revenir” (Freedom To Act, Right To Return) in February to gain the right to return temporarily to Syria. They want their return to be secure, with an “absolute guarantee of return to France.” Their goal: to participate in Syria’s political and democratic transition.
“This situation is so extraordinary that we need an extraordinary decision,” al-Zoubi says. They were able to get help from two lawyers, Raphael Kempf and Romain Ruiz. “We wrote two letters that we sent to President Emmanuel Macron,” she adds.
The Interior Ministry had previously allowed people to request a document to visit their country. This “safe-conduct” document can be valid for a maximum of three months. “It’s a procedure that is well known in asylum law, which allows a person to return to the country they fled for an urgent reason (a death, for example). In the case of Syrians, an urgent reason is not required,” explains Laurent Delbos, advocacy officer at Refugee Forum, a nongovernmental organization that offers various services — such as reception, housing and support — to around 30,000 asylum-seekers annually. Syrians can therefore ask for the document for humanitarian reasons, such as visiting their relatives or checking on their homes. “It’s a procedure made to allow refugees to visit their country, not to return. Otherwise, the protection is canceled,” adds Valentina Napolitano, a sociologist focused on forced migration at the Research Institute for Development.
Still, the collective wants the conditions for the travel permit to be expanded and made unconditional. “There are no clear criteria. We need a directive from the Ministry of the Interior distributed to all prefectures, because people outside of Paris have had their permits denied. It’s up to the agent’s discretion and reserved for activists and journalists. We want it to be systematic because some people, for example, want to visit their elderly parents,” al-Zoubi says.
Indeed, for Syrians exiled in Europe, being able to return does not necessarily mean resettling permanently in Syria, even if a handful may make this choice. For the time being, after years of separation, most want to see their families and loved ones who have stayed behind. Others mainly think about returning to their town and to their land, and being able to walk freely there. Ultimately, a majority probably want to assess the situation and see the extent of the damage to their property and hometown.
Despite this possibility, though, many cannot afford a visit. The decision to return to, or even visit, the country involves a wide range of factors — economic, political, security-related, logistical and social. “We have to take into account all the factors that can influence the question of return. It’s not just a political issue, it’s also linked to children’s education, employment, family background, legal status and economic situation,” Napolitano says.
Delbos explains that all these announcements have created significant administrative confusion, as well as confusion among the Syrian diaspora. “They express a lot of fears due to the chaos,” and because France’s response seems to lag behind that of other European countries, he says. “Uncertainty is heightened, even though it is already the common lot of refugees,” he adds.
This chaos has been compounded by other announcements. Among them are decisions concerning Syrian asylum-seekers, whose situation is becoming increasingly unstable. On Dec. 10, the French Office for the Protection of Refugees and Stateless Persons (OFPRA) decided to freeze 700 applications. This decision came just hours after a statement by the Minister of the Interior.
“Following statements from other ministers in Europe, he reportedly said that the ministry was working on suspending ongoing cases. This is embarrassing because he is taking a position on a decision that is not his to make, but that of OFPRA,” explains Delbos, who believes this decision has already led some Syrians to assume that their cases have been rejected.
On the other hand, Delbos affirms that OFPRA’s decision follows the French legal framework. The office needs to evaluate what awaits Syrians if they return to their country. “It’s the usual logic. A suspension of cases was made when there was rapid change in the situation in Sudan or Afghanistan, for example,” he explains.
Several European countries, such as Denmark, Sweden, Germany and Italy, have suspended the asylum process. The day after Assad’s regime fell, announcements quickly followed from the EU member states, home to 1.4 million Syrians, including those who have been naturalized, who are refugees and who are asylum-seekers. Political leaders had mostly reacted hastily, making unsettling announcements without concretizing them. As European countries see significant shifts toward the political right, Assad’s fall has been seen as a political opportunity: Syrian refugees have been used to bolster anti-immigration rhetoric and their departure or deportation back to Syria has been encouraged.
Germany, the European country hosting the largest number of Syrian refugees, has been discussing a plan to “review and revoke” their refugee status if they no longer need protection due to the fall of the regime and if they are not well integrated into the country. In April 2025, the Interior Ministry also proposed allowing Syrians to visit Syria in order to prepare them for a possible future permanent return.
After announcing that it could reexamine applications from those already granted protection or develop a deportation plan, Austria became the first country to deport a Syrian man on July 3, raising concerns that it may encourage other European countries to follow suit. On Dec. 16, 2024, UNHCR, the U.N. refugee agency, said that because of the situation in Syria, these returns should not be implemented and that the country was not safe to return to.
The idea of forcing returns to Syria is not new. For a few years now, more countries have been advocating for the deportation of Syrians whose asylum applications have been rejected. While pushing to declare so-called safe areas for refugees to return to in Syria, eight EU members have argued that the situation in Syria has evolved and stabilized. But the European Commission has refused, maintaining that the country is not safe.
“It’s a tricky question. A person may not qualify for asylum, but their deportation can be forbidden if the country is not considered safe by the EU,” explains Samuel Davidoff-Gore, an associate policy analyst with the Migration Policy Institute. With Assad gone, the same members seem to believe that Syria is now safe enough to deport Syrians or deny asylum, even though the UNHCR declared that Syria is not yet safe enough for return.
Davidoff-Gore believes this rhetoric is part of a broader political shift. “There is very strong political pressure to send migrants and refugees out of the country because they burden social services and cultural identity. And many countries are pursuing that vision,” he says. Denmark has adopted a zero asylum framework, and Sweden’s new government has implemented a restrictive migration policy after having been a host country, for example. Germany also saw its government change in February, following a federal election that notably gave more seats to the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD). Since then, the government has suspended family reunification for asylum-seekers and has forbidden border crossings for all asylum-seekers, with some exceptions for vulnerable populations.
Davidoff-Gore strongly believes that European political leaders should adopt a long-term vision. He says that if people are pushed into leaving, they may then feel the need to come back to Europe, but that if they are given stability in terms of their status, it is more likely that they will ultimately choose a life in Syria. He notes that returning is a slow process. In the Balkans, it took 10 years for refugees and internally displaced persons to return to their homes.
More importantly, the hasty announcements to end the reception of Syrians did not take into account the integration of this diaspora into European societies. “That seemed a bit hasty. Most of them have relatives in the host country; they have established lives,” Davidoff-Gore says.
As for a longer-term return, the choice is complicated. While many in exile wish to return to their country, the decision depends on two factors: the situation in Syria and the quality of integration in the host country. Many have built their lives in their host countries, found jobs and raised their children. The majority of them are still waiting to see how things will evolve.
“The motivation to return depends on the individual. The most important factor is the monetary cost, but they also consider economic and social factors. What can I gain from this return? What is more beneficial for me and my family? Because returning comes with a cost,” explains Kamal Kassam, a doctoral candidate in Labor Economics at the Humboldt University of Berlin and a researcher at the Institute for Employment Research (IAB).
For example, in Germany, where around 1 million Syrians live, much effort has been put into their integration, including through work and language programs. More than two-thirds have acquired citizenship, and according to a study by the IAB, around 287,000 were employed in September 2024.
Another important factor is safety. The situation in Syria is far from secure and stable. Recently, more than a thousand Alawites (mostly civilians and alleged Assad loyalists) were killed, but there has been regular fighting, especially in the north. Add to this the devastation the Assad regime wrought on the country, where 90% of the population lives below the poverty line, two-thirds depend on humanitarian aid and 413,000 people were without water and electricity for seven weeks after the Tishreen Dam was damaged on Dec. 10.
Employment opportunities are still limited, 40% of the infrastructure has been destroyed and the country is not ready to support the return of refugees who will need assistance. It is slowly being rebuilt, but much remains to be done: The water and electricity infrastructure in the countryside is lacking, and many houses that may still be standing but were looted and ransacked from top to bottom by the regime’s men require complete renovation. Those who return will likely have to rebuild everything.
The difficulties facing returnees, combined with the fear of being deported or losing their protection, have significant consequences for exiled Syrians. “It creates a lot of uncertainty that affects their integration. They need security to continue with their lives and have a sense of belonging,” Kassam explains.
Despite everything, those who can are organizing remotely. “I can observe a lot of activities in events being organized. They are creating groups, acting through civil or political movements, or participating in the political process happening in Syria from afar,” Kassam says.
“Liberte d’Agir, Droit de Revenir” is also active beyond France. “We are at the second step of the campaign now. We started to talk with activists in Europe, especially in Germany, to put pressure on politicians to obtain safe-conducts and allow them to return without threats,” al-Zoubi says.
For her, as for the collective, allowing return to Syria would enable the diaspora to “participate in the democratic processes [in their country] without renouncing their refugee status.” Similarly, in their letter, the two lawyers supporting the campaign explain that the diaspora is essential to rebuilding the country.
For her part, al-Zoubi has still not tried to request a safe-conduct document. “It’s a document that few countries recognize for transit, so you have to go through Qatar to get to Damascus from Europe. But the flights are too expensive,” al-Zoubi explains. The collective is therefore trying to resolve this logistical issue by advocating for “direct flights” to be scheduled.
In the meantime, al-Zoubi tries to go on with her life despite the changes and the violence in her country. “I’m psychologically exhausted, especially because of the violence against the Alawites and Druze. The security reasons are still a little unclear and I’m gradually losing hope for my country,” she says.
Still, she imagines being able to go as she pleases. “I would live in Damascus to be a fixer, a journalist or work with civil society.” It remains crucial for her to keep one foot in France and therefore acquire citizenship. “I want to be able to vote in two countries!” she says, laughing, even though she can’t yet. That way, she could represent and defend the women of southern Syria. Most importantly, she could finally belong somewhere and have the absolute freedom to choose where she wants to live, to come and go in Syria, and to see her sister and niece as often as she wishes.
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