What Syria needs today is not score-settling, but a new concept of justice—one that transcends loyalties, affiliations, or revolutionary credentials, and is instead rooted in an independent judiciary and institutions that uphold rights, individual freedoms, and human dignity.
The recent appearance of Irfan Haidar, a former conscript in the Syrian army, in a video where he burns his government-issued reconciliation card, triggered a firestorm of online vitriol. The backlash went far beyond legitimate critique, spiraling into direct death threats and accusations of betrayal. He was branded a “regime remnant,” an “ingrate,” and one of Assad’s “orphans”—a slander now applied to many in his position.
Haidar’s act reignited a broader public debate around justice, the role of the individual, and the shape of the state in post-Assad Syria. Under pressure, he released a second video defending his revolutionary past. He explained that he had participated in the uprising, was imprisoned multiple times by the Assad regime, conscripted into the army in 2017, and fled two months later—only to find that his reconciliation card had become, ironically, a liability at checkpoints, marking him as a suspect in the eyes of all.
In his second video, Haidar appeared visibly shaken, as though pleading his case before an invisible tribunal. He seemed to await a verdict—not from a court of law, but from a prominent revolutionary figure or a high-profile social media account that could vouch for him, lifting him from the realm of treachery to that of redemption.
The Problem of “Revolutionary Credentials”
This case reveals more than personal misfortune—it exposes a structural flaw in how justice is perceived. When law ceases to be the arbiter, and personal safety depends on a “revolutionary résumé” or a character endorsement from an influencer, the concept of a state collapses. What emerges instead is a social order that mirrors the very mechanisms of the fallen regime: surveillance, loyalty tests, and collective condemnation.
Haidar’s case is not unique. Similar stories have proliferated in recent months—stories of people turning to social media to seek absolution from prominent voices of the revolution, to prove their innocence of imagined crimes and earn permission to exist within the new social fabric.
These repeated scenarios prompt an essential question: is justice something to be granted—or something meant to protect? Is citizenship a guaranteed right, or a privilege conditioned by ideological purity? Has the revolution for freedom and dignity morphed into yet another instrument of repression, one that judges individuals based on an unquantifiable notion of “revolutionary morality”? Worse yet, have certain individuals begun to assume the role of ultimate moral arbiters in a country still lacking a functioning legal system?
Trial by Public Opinion
During the wave of defamation and incitement against Haidar, some figures aligned with the revolution not only remained silent but actively amplified the outrage. This reinforced the idea that no citizen is entitled to protection unless endorsed by a “trustworthy revolutionary” or a social media platform that certifies them as part of the “in-group.” Thus, the judiciary is sidelined, replaced by street-level justice and verdicts shaped by public sentiment, not written law or independent courts.
In this climate, state authority dissolves, and justice becomes a spectacle. Everyone’s history is open to scrutiny, and anyone with a large enough following or a sharp enough archive of political posts can serve as prosecutor, judge, and executioner. Old tweets become evidence; past hesitations, crimes.
The self-appointed prosecutors in this new era—activists and “journalists”—often mirror the practices they once condemned. Long before Assad fell, many engaged in this behavior, targeting public figures, celebrities, and athletes affiliated with the regime. Back then, it was accepted as part of an anti-regime media campaign. But now, its logic has turned inward.
A Justice That Protects, Not Punishes
At its core, justice is meant to protect the weak from the powerful—politically and economically. It allows for the distinction between wrong and right without criminalizing dissent. Yet today in Syria, we see a deformed version of justice. Expressing frustration invites punishment. Criticizing the de facto authorities brings threats. Refusing to clap on cue demands an explanation of one’s past.
This suggests that the fall of the regime has not ushered in genuine transformation. What we see instead is a cosmetic shift—new faces, new sectarian makeup, new uniforms—but the same coercive logic.
This article was translated and edited by The Syrian Observer. The Syrian Observer has not verified the content of this story. Responsibility for the information and views set out in this article lies entirely with the author.
