Since December, a post-Assad Syria has reunited Syrians across the world, fueling their hopes and ambitions of rebuilding a free and democratic state. Meanwhile, the sudden and unexpected turn of events have provided European governments — particularly those with a proclivity for far-right agendas — with the political pretext to push for refugees’ immediate repatriation.
Directive 2011/95/EU of the European Parliament outlines the prerequisite criteria for revoking refugee status. While voluntary return results in the renunciation of protection, asylum can be revoked or refused renewal if conditions in the refugee’s home country have significantly and permanently improved.
For the past 10 months, Omar Aljaroud has been waiting for a response to his asylum seeking application in Utrecht, where he relocated after a decade in Turkey. The Netherlands, along with several other European governments, froze all asylum procedures for Syrians shortly after the fall of Bashar al-Assad on December 8, 2024.
“I fled with my family in 2012, when the free army took control of the area. The regime was bombing without a care; that night our building never stopped shaking. We left the next day.”
Aljaloud was 18-years-old protesting on his university’s campus in Aleppo. He wanted to become an architect and build a free Syria. Then the war started. “I cried my heart out when Assad fell. It was one of the happiest days of my life, a day I thought I would have never been able to see,” Al Jaloud tells Raseef22 from the courtyard of a refugee shelter in Utrecht. “But before I even had time to process what was happening in Syria, my asylum procedure was paused for at least another six months.
The European Union Agency for Asylum deems a country “safe” when “the law is applied democratically, and political circumstances do not generally and consistently lead to persecution, torture, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment, or threat by reason of indiscriminate violence.”
For the past 10 months, Omar Aljaroud has been waiting for a response to his asylum seeking application in Utrecht, where he relocated after a decade in Turkey. The Netherlands, along with several other European governments, froze all asylum procedures for Syrians shortly after the fall of Bashar al-Assad on December 8, 2024.
“Dutch authorities might send me back to Aleppo soon, and if this happens it will be against my will.”
Half a century of Assadist rule, and nearly 14 years of war, had led to the emergence of a new direction for Syrian society and government. The authorities from Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), who were not democratically elected or formally appointed, have a long way to go to rebuild and reimagine the country’s corrupted institutions and its starved economy. They’re also tasked with restoring confidence and trust among the public, while ensuring the rebels’ extremist roots do not pose an impending threat.
Aljaloud’s journey comes to a halt
During the Syrian Civil War, Turkey hosted an approximate 3 million Syrian refugees under ‘temporary protection,’ or kimlik, a specific legal status granted primarily to Syrian refugees permitted to stay in Turkey. Although this status guaranteed them access to healthcare and education in the province where they had registered their residency, movement is generally restricted to the province they first registered their arrival in the country.
For over 10 years, Aljaloud resided in Gaziantep, southeastern Turkey, where he studied, worked, and learned Turkish. He never applied nor acquired temporary protection status, but he had managed to secure employment and a stable income with an international humanitarian organization.
Speaking both in Turkish and Arabic, Aljaloud was responsible for organizing logistics to distribute aid to vulnerable refugee families and assessing their needs. He was enlisted as a foreigner on his work permit for eight years, until the end of 2023, when his permit renewal was rejected. The only explanation he received was that “a Turkish citizen would be able to do the same job.”
Left without the legal right to work and remain in the country, he scrambled to find a lawyer who could help with an appeal, but to no avail. After the court upheld the rejection of the work permit renewal in the first appeal, his lawyer informed him that an appeal would likely be a lost cause that could take months.
If he failed to present a valid document to inquiring Turkish authorities that patrolled the streets, he could risk being deported back to Syria, where many young men, like himself, were wanted by the Assad regime. To avoid getting caught, Aljaloud hid in his apartment for months, going out only to buy groceries by bicycle to minimize any run-ins with Turkish policemen.
"I would lie awake until six a.m., unable to focus—not even on a movie. My mind was filled with unanswered questions. What if I lost the money? Get arrested? Deported to Syria? "
Aljaloud carefully assessed the limited options available to him, running through the logistics and potential risks. He knew that seeking asylum in Europe and leaving Turkey meant he wouldn’t know the next time he could see his family again.
Nowhere to go but the sea
In the warmth of May, the season to begin again, Al Jaloud boarded a small boat with other fleeing passengers. The journey through the Aegean coast lasted for nearly two hours. A network of smugglers take care of every minute detail; the safer the route, the higher the fee. It cost him €12,000—the entirety of his savings. In the windowless cabin below deck, they waited to arrive on shore.
“I stopped thinking; I was just a body breathing without any feeling, waiting to reach Greece. I think I used up all of my luck on that journey.”
There are over one million Syrian asylum-seekers and refugees residing in Europe, according to the UN High Commissioner for Refugees. Syrians constituted the largest number of refugees seeking asylum within the European Union. In October 2024, just two months before the fall of the regime, 86,945 applicants filed for asylum, a 24 percent decrease from the previous October, according to Eurostat, the statistical office of the EU.
In Rhodes, an island off the Greek coast, Aljaloud met up with a “passport seller” he had previously contacted. He was given the ID of a Spanish man whose face somewhat resembled his. From there, he took a bus to reach the airport and fly to Italy, with a layover in Pisa, to finally catch a flight to Amsterdam.
“I’ve started from zero so many times in my life,” admits Aljaloud.
There are over one million Syrian asylum-seekers and refugees residing in Europe, according to the UN High Commissioner for Refugees. Syrians constituted the largest number of refugees seeking asylum within the European Union. In October 2024, just two months before the fall of the regime, 86,945 applicants filed for asylum, a 24 percent decrease from the previous October, according to Eurostat, the statistical office of the EU.
Upon his arrival in the Netherlands, where his sister and cousin had migrated to years before, he directly went to a nearby police station and declared he was a migrant who arrived illegally and sought asylum.
After identification and registration, migrants wait in a temporary shelter until invited for an interview at the immigration office, where they must explain why they fled their home country. If authorities determine the need for protection, a file is opened to request asylum. Applicants are then transferred to a second reception center, where they receive housing, a small allowance, healthcare, legal assistance and access to education for children while awaiting the application result.
Photo courtesy by Omar Aljaloud.
"From Rhodes to Pisa during a moment when I thought I finally made it for real." (Photo courtesy of Omar Aljaloud)
Currently, Aljaloud receives €70 weekly from the Dutch government to sustain himself, and has a bed in a shared room inside a crowded refugee shelter.
X., a social worker in a migrant reception center in Utrecht, spoke to Raseef22 on the condition of anonymity. Organizing social activities in camps is becoming increasingly difficult as Syrian asylum seekers remain in a legal limbo, facing deep insecurity that hinders their ability to work, study, learn the language, and assimilate, according to X.
“When people arrive, their mental health is already fragile,” shares X. “They’ve been pushed back at borders, tortured, imprisoned, lost loved ones — then, after finally making it, they’re told their case is on hold for six months.”
X. explains that the youth she works with have not told their families in Syria about their asylum procedures, fearing they’d be devastated to learn family reunification might never happen — especially after taking on debts of over €10,000.
“The speed at which asylum procedures were paused, including for children and minorities, is alarming. It sends a clear message about European authorities' priorities for migrants. What comes next is uncertain, but for many whose asylum claims are based on threats from Assad’s regime, the EU now has an easy argument to deny protection — even though Syria is far from stable,” she concludes.
Syrians are still stuck in limbo
Over a decade of Civil War and foreign battles fought on its land has left Syria severely damaged, and with it its infrastructure, economy, and agriculture, leading to a sharp decline in productivity. At the same time, Western sanctions have isolated the country from global financial systems, restricting trade and access to foreign currency. To align official exchange rates with the black market, the Central Bank of Syria has repeatedly devalued the pound. Moreover, Syria’s financial crisis worsened after the 2019 Lebanese banking collapse froze its assets, further accelerating currency devaluation. As a result, in 2023, inflation reached over 130%, driving up essential costs.
At the time of writing, the situation in Syria remains extremely complex and unpredictable. Over 90 percent of Syrians live in poverty today, according to the World Food Program. Many survive on less than $2.15 per day and the cost of living has tripled in just three years.
Millions are in need of humanitarian aid, while nearly half of the country’s hospitals are not fully functional. Daily essentials such as water, electricity, and fuel remain scarce. While some Syrians have already returned, many have opted to remain where they are, waiting to return when living conditions have improved. But Aljaloud does not believe that enough measures have been taken to guarantee democracy, freedom, and accountability for all while also ensuring collective safety and emerging social tensions.
In early March, clashes between the transitional government forces and Assad loyalists killed more than 900 people including civilians in Tartus and Latakia, reports the Syrian Observatory For Human Rights. Syrian civil societies are also reporting cases of arbitrary arrests and sectarian-driven murder. In addition, uncertainty over disarmament and reconciliation with Kurdish-led forces remains, despite a recent deal merging Kurdish troops into Syria’s army — a breakthrough that consolidates control under the interim government.
At the time of writing, the situation in Syria remains extremely complex and unpredictable. Over 90 percent of Syrians live in poverty today, according to the World Food Program. Many survive on less than $2.15 per day and the cost of living has tripled in just three years.
"While the security situation has improved since Assad’s fall—reducing the risk of arbitrary arrests, torture, and regime bombardments—Syria remains a post-war environment,” Muhsen al-Mustafa, an Istanbul-based researcher at the Omran Center for Strategic Studies, tells Raseef22. “This means conditions are still in flux, and full stabilization will take years.”
UN agencies are reporting other concerning security conditions: in east Aleppo, several car bombs killed 20 civilian lives in early February, just days after a separate attack killed four civilians and left nine others wounded, including six children. Israeli airstrikes and incursions still threaten the inhabitants in Quneitra, Damascus, and Daraa, while minefields and undetonated ordnance are causing casualties on an almost daily basis, the UN warned.
In the meantime, Aljaloud is trying to spend less time on social media poring over the ongoing developments in his county and the anxiety over what may come next for him.
"I hope I can stay. I’ll learn Dutch and work in my field, helping other refugees. Laws may change, but in a world where safety and dignity are a privilege for few rather than a right for all, migration will never stop," Aljaloud concludes.
What Al Jaloud craves the most, however, is a home where he can live freely, without fear or discrimination, a safe place to heal from the inflicted trauma of war, constant uncertainty, and forced displacement.
“I don’t have a house in Aleppo anymore. All my relatives and friends are spread out all over the world. If I return and something happens, I won’t be able to get out of Syria again.”
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