In the aftermath of Bashar al-Assad’s fall from power, survivors and families in Syria are beginning to speak openly about the widespread torture and abuse that characterised his regime.
For over a decade, Assad’s security apparatus operated an extensive network of detention centres where torture, sexual violence, and mass executions were routine. The Associated Press has documented these harrowing accounts in a report.
Abdullah Zahra, a former detainee, recalls being tortured in one of these facilities in 2012. He was electrocuted and beaten for hours while his father was forced to watch. “Death was the least bad thing,” he stated, revisiting the detention centre where he was once imprisoned. “We reached a place where death was easier than staying here for one minute,” he added.
Zahra described the conditions of the underground dungeon, where he was confined in a windowless 4-by-4-meter (yard) cell with 100 other inmates. He further mentioned that each prisoner was allocated a single floor tile to crouch upon. During periods when ventilation systems were non-operational—whether deliberately or due to power interruptions—some prisoners lost their lives from lack of oxygen.
Torture wounds were left to fester, and men descended into madness. When a cellmate died, Zahra said, the body was placed near the cell’s toilet until jailers arrived to remove the corpses. The oppressive regime intensified as civil conflict escalated. Zahra’s arrest occurred alongside his father’s after security forces killed his brother, who was known for creating anti-Assad street art.
Following their release, Zahra sought refuge in areas controlled by the opposition. Shortly after, security personnel returned and arrested 13 male members of his family, including his younger brother and father once again.
The Assad regime’s methods of torture were notorious and even had specific names. One such method, the “magic carpet,” involved strapping a detainee to a hinged wooden plank that folded their body in half, forcing their head to meet their feet, which were then savagely beaten.
Mahmoud Abdulbaki, a 37-year-old non-commissioned air force officer who defected, endured another brutal technique called “the tire” during his detention at a military police facility. His legs were bent inside a car tyre as his captors mercilessly beat his back and feet. They demanded he count each lash—up to 200—and restarted the punishment whenever he made a mistake. “People’s hearts stopped following a beating,” he recounted grimly.
Saleh Turki Yahia, another survivor, endured electric shocks, was hung by his wrists, and brutally beaten on his feet. He lost half his body weight and scratched his skin raw from scabies.
He described how a fellow inmate bled for days after returning from an interrogation where officers had forced a pipe into his body. When other prisoners attempted to move him, “all his fluids poured out from his backside. The wound opened from the back, and he died,” he recounted.
Reflecting on his suffering, Yahia broke down in tears stating: “They broke us. Look at Syria, it is all old men … A whole generation is destroyed.”
Rights groups estimate that at least 150,000 Syrians disappeared into this prison system since protests began in 2011. Many were killed under horrific conditions, their bodies left in mass graves. Families often remained silent, fearing retaliation, but now they are seeking answers.
The insurgents who swept Assad out of power opened detention facilities, releasing prisoners and allowing the public to bear witness. Among those released when opposition forces overran detention centres was Rasha Barakat, who endured beatings and threats against her children during her imprisonment. Though reunited with her family, she says, “I am destroyed psychologically… It’s hard to move on.”
The discovery of mass graves and hundreds of thousands of classified documents has begun shedding light on the scale of the atrocities. Former detainees and civil defence workers are working to identify victims and gather evidence.
International organisations, including a UN investigative body, are assisting Syria’s interim administration in documenting these crimes. While the road to justice is long, survivors like Zahra and Barakat hope that holding those responsible accountable will help the country heal.
“This is not just about punishment,” said Zahra. “It’s about giving people answers and ensuring this never happens again.”
