In this article, I show that the retaliatory violence which follows the collapse of authoritarian regimes isn’t a random cultural phenomenon, but rather a political symptom that reveals a genuine deficiency in the system of accountability; for the absence of a credible path of transitional justice, or its delay, or its selectivity, doesn’t silence the demand for justice, but rather pushes it toward individual action outside the scope of the judiciary. The article approaches the accountability vacuum in the Syrian context from two distinct dimensions: the first is procedural, connected to the fragility of the judicial institutions and their collapse after decades of corruption; and the second is epistemic, tied to the fact that many of the affected communities already know, and in a documented manner, the identity of those involved in the grave violations. And when these implicated persons remain present in public life without any legal oversight, impunity turns, in the eyes of the victims, from an institutional incapacity into a political choice. At the same time, the article affirms, without any reservation, that the legal position on extrajudicial killing is clear and unambiguous; for the right to life remains guaranteed under international law, regardless of the gravity of the accusation directed at the victim. The article concludes that the optimal response is built on a firm separation between anger and revenge: preventing retaliatory violence and prosecuting it judicially, while absorbing legitimate anger and channeling it toward the paths of institutional accountability, including vetting, criminal investigation, witness protection, and the active participation of the victims, as an indispensable condition for entrenching the legitimacy of the new state and safeguarding the transitional phase from collapse.
Fadel Abdulghany
The retaliatory violence that follows the collapse of an authoritarian regime is an illegal and destructive act, however, when read carefully, it appears as a political concept; for it indicates that a society emerging from a long repression hasn’t yet seen its demand for justice translated into a credible institutional process. And in the Syrian transitional phase, the recurrence of individual revenge ought to be analyzed as a symptom of an untreated deficiency in accountability, not as the remnant of a cultural disease. The following discussion approaches revenge as the visible expression of a serious failure, while affirming, without restriction or condition, that extrajudicial killing remains prohibited under national and international laws.
Transitional justice studies have long established that formally ending repression doesn’t, in itself, produce a genuine transition. For what turns a change of regime into a transition is the practical application of a specific package of measures: the search for truth, criminal prosecution, reparations, vetting, institutional reform, and guarantees of non-recurrence. And when these measures are absent, or delayed, or appear clearly selective, the demand for justice isn’t extinguished, but rather displaced. And this displacement, not disappearance, generates retaliatory violence automatically. Therefore, the question posed before any new authority isn’t whether this violence will appear, but whether the institutional path capable of absorbing the fundamental demand has been opened at the appropriate time.
In the Syrian context, the accountability vacuum takes on two dimensions that ought to be analyzed separately. The first is procedural; for the courts, the public prosecution, the mechanisms for overseeing detention, and witness protection can’t be rebuilt within a brief period in a country that has suffered the collapse and corruption of its institutions. As for the second, it is epistemic. For after more than a decade of documentation, testimonies, leaked detention records, and local memory, many communities believe that they already know who participated in or benefited from the grave violations. And when these figures remain present in public life without transparent legal oversight, the absence of measures isn’t interpreted merely as an administrative weakness, but rather as a denial of what the victims already know. And this epistemic dimension is what grants the vacuum its political character.
This dual structure explains a shift that often passes unnoticed in transitional contexts. For in the beginning, the incapacity is viewed as a structural incapacity, and is granted a measure of popular patience. However, the longer the apparent impunity persists, the more the incapacity begins to resemble a political choice. For the move from institutional incapacity to perceived leniency is gradual in its accumulation, yet it may be sudden in its consequences. And once a critical mass of the affected communities concludes that the new authority is unwilling, rather than incapable, to take measures against the known suspects, reversing the course of the loss of trust becomes extremely difficult.
For this reason, the reductive interpretation that attributes acts of revenge to blind hatred is analytically deficient. For it obscures the responsibility of those entrusted with building the mechanisms of accountability, and it strips the victims of their political agency and their legal awareness. For many affected communities don’t demand revenge, but rather ask why persons reliably known to be involved in grave violations remain socially protected, economically active, and politically tolerated, at a time where the legal system keeps its silence. Describing this anger as hatred misunderstands its source; for it treats a political demand as an emotional disorder, and thereby empties a fundamental question about the meaning of the rule of law of its political dimension.
In contrast, the legal position on revenge outside the scope of the judiciary is clear and unambiguous. For the right to life is guaranteed against arbitrary deprivation, regardless of the gravity of the accusation. And General Comment No. 36 of the Human Rights Committee affirms that this protection includes persons suspected or convicted of committing the most serious crimes. Therefore, retaliatory killing isn’t an irregular form of justice, but rather an unlawful killing, and it can’t be reclassified on the basis of the victim’s prior conduct.
The clarity of this legal position is necessary, however, it isn’t sufficient. For legal condemnation detached from institutional reform tends to become a discourse of the regime rather than of justice. And the new authority that condemns individual violence without building public justice doesn’t contribute to the stability of the transitional phase, but rather postpones its crisis. And this pattern may be described as formal accountability; for the official record adopts the vocabulary of justice, self-restraint, and the rule of law, without building a visible process that enables the victims to feel assured of the reality of accountability. And the result isn’t reconciliation, but rather the accumulation of disbelief, which is the political environment that makes revenge more likely, not less.
The relationship between authority and accountability requires special attention in transitional contexts. For the state governed by law ought to enjoy a legitimate monopoly over the use of coercive force, however, this monopoly, in stable systems, is usually backed by an existing legal order. As for the transitional phase, this relationship is inverted; for accountability contributes to entrenching the legitimacy of the monopoly itself. For the new authority doesn’t acquire its legitimacy merely from its capacity to use force, but rather when this force is clearly restrained by the law, and when the law reaches, reliably, those involved in prior violations. And when figures connected to the security, political, or economic networks of the Assad regime roam about without legal oversight, the message directed at the victims is clear: the law is selective. And no official statement about the rule of law can withstand this perception.
And accordingly, transitional justice can’t be considered a deferred aspiration. For security vetting, asset screening, criminal investigation, victim participation, witness protection, the temporary restrictions imposed on dangerous suspects, and transparent communication with the public, are the tools through which the state reclaims its authority from the grip of individual revenge. And their absence prepares, in a predictable manner, the conditions that lead to retaliatory acts.
The popular anger that follows a continuous wave of violence can’t be treated as a passing problem solvable through the media. For the anger accumulated over more than fourteen years of killing, torture, enforced disappearance, displacement, and uprooting is a political phenomenon rooted in institutional memory. And reassuring statements and symbolic messages may calm its intensity temporarily, but they can’t address the underlying grievances, and they often confirm that the authority is treating a deficiency in governance as a matter of communication. And the optimal response is the separation between anger and revenge: preventing retaliatory violence, investigating it, and prosecuting its perpetrators, while listening to the anger, organizing it, and channeling it toward the legal path.
The documentation record in Syria makes this commitment all the more pressing. For over the years, evidence has been gathered about the perpetrators, the detention centers, the command structures, the enforced disappearance, the extrajudicial killing, and the economic complicity, thanks to the efforts of hundreds of local activists, national human rights organizations, victims’ associations, lawyers, journalists, survivors, and the international mechanisms. And revenge won’t be defeated by moving verbal condemnation, but rather when the victims see that justice is no longer absent, or selective, or deferred indefinitely.
