Salam,
I am one of around 890,000 people who came to Germany as refugees from Syria in 2015, and my topic from the beginning was: How do we start talking? I was lucky enough to land in Hamburg and quickly get in touch with Germans there – first via Facebook and later in real life. But I was interested in more than my personal environment, I wanted to create a permanent place for exchange.
In 2018, I founded kohero magazine with many others, a migrant media platform. Kohero creates space for perspectives that are often too little visible in the German media landscape: the voices of people with a migration and refugee background. Our goal is that people don't talk about us from a distance, but deal with our perspectives.
When Germans now demand that as many Syrians as possible should return as quickly as possible, they are not only misjudging our common social reality, but also repeating mistakes of the past. Let me explain why.
The fall of Assad: It doesn't heal the wounds
The fall of Assad was an indescribable moment. For me and for all those who have been affected by Syria's dictatorial system and the war that has been waged against the Syrian people since 2011 by our government with the support of Iran, Russia and Hezbollah, it is still an incredible feeling today.
This great war and the loss of loved ones and their homeland have caused Syrians a lot of pain. We all carry a deep emotional wound within us, which even Assad's overthrow will not heal overnight. It still hurts us.
What has changed as a result of his overthrow, however, are our feelings for Syria. The end of the Assad era has given us back our homeland and with it a sense of pride in Syria. For a long time, there was only shame, because Syria was often associated with war, pain, refugees, "illegal" migration, alleged crimes.
With pride comes the big question: Do I want to return to Syria? Help rebuild the country? And if so, would I be able to do it?
The foreign has become (more) familiar
Even though I answer the question with "yes" in principle, I have worked very hard in Germany over the last ten years to build a new home for myself here. I have created a new home for myself and developed new perspectives for the future.
On the other hand, there is a great loss due to the flight. We have lost the sense of belonging to Syria, family members and friends have died or disappeared during the war. To this day, no one knows where some of them are. I have also lost the backdrop of my childhood memories – my home, my street, my school, my world.
But lost doesn't really hit the nail on the head. Because the memories remain and weigh heavily on me. They are memories full of pain, homesickness and "speechless". This word came to my mind when I realized how much I missed the Arabic language after my arrival in Germany. I missed the exchange, the talking, the communication. These stories of pain and loss as well as arriving in a new society cannot simply be left behind and returned to Syria.
And the familiar is strange(er)
In February 2025, I traveled to Syria for the first time in almost eleven years. I imagined how I would return to my home, as it was in my memories. I returned to my family, whom I hadn't seen since 2014, back to that time from back then. But on site, I found a completely different home. Our apartment had been partially destroyed by the war. And with the building also memories of the moments inside.
Everything was simply gone. Moments from my first days at school, my books that I had gradually collected, pictures from my childhood, my ugly drawings, my poems that I believed would change the world. The bay window where I played with my friends and siblings, where I studied for exams and where the delicious meals with the family took place – I had kept all this in my head in Germany, but it no longer exists in our house. Some of the friends have died. Faces from my neighborhood have also disappeared. Children whose faces I knew are now adults. We can renovate the house, but the home of my memory will not come back.
The journey from 2025 back to 2011 was quick. In just a few days I drove from Hamburg via Düsseldorf, then from Beirut to Damascus. On this short journey, time caught up with me and showed me that the year 2011 has irrevocably passed. The year in which I hoped, dreamed and believed.
Pain separates us from each other instead of uniting us
After Assad's fall, the joy was great. But after three weeks, at the latest after the first few months, many have noticed: Yes, Assad is gone, and that's good. But he has left behind a difficult legacy that Syria will suffer from for a long time to come.
The legacy is not only the dead, the tortured, not only the destroyed society, but also the division between people – between those who have remained and those in exile; between areas controlled by opposition groups and those under the regime; between people in different cities and regions.
All of them have had different experiences in the years of oppression and war, which we as a society can hardly shoulder together. How can you build a future together with such different memories and so much pain? The challenge is not only the destroyed infrastructure or the economic situation, but above all the lost common memory and the isolating pain of each and every individual.
Even before the fall of Assad, there was not one truth in Syria, but many different truths. Who was the perpetrator, who was the victim? Who bore responsibility, and who suffered themselves? It is precisely because of the lack of clarity that the search for the facts is so difficult and important at the same time.
In order to shape Syria's present and future, it is necessary to talk about the past. What forms of suffering have Syrians experienced under the Assad regime? What individual and collective losses did they have to endure? Only when these experiences are acknowledged and processed can a common understanding of history emerge.
After the fall of the regime, new tensions and waves of violence are emerging, for example through massacres of the Alawite and Druze communities. But most of them only acknowledge their own pain, not that of others. This further fuels the conflict and is the greatest danger in society.
A return would now also be a new beginning
I want to help rebuild Syria. But how can I build a country that I hardly know anymore? My life and career now take place in Germany. If I were to go back to Syria, I would have to rebuild a lot of things. I wonder if I have the strength for it. This is especially true for the many Syrians who have started families in their new homeland, sometimes with people from other countries. For partners and children, Syria would be a completely unknown country.
Even if someone is emotionally ready to return, there are many hurdles on the ground, for example the education system: more than 7,000 schools have been destroyed. Many others are overcrowded, with 40 or 50 children often sitting in the classes. There is a lack of teachers and resources, there are too few chairs and often no heating. Sometimes even doors and windows are missing. Most parents don't want to put their children through that. Things don't look rosy after school either: youth unemployment is around 69 percent.
Overall, Syria needs an almost unimaginable amount of money for reconstruction. Even if countries like Germany support the process, as in 2026 alone with around 200 million euros in the area of health and water infrastructure, this is far from enough. The idea that the majority of Syrians could leave Germany in the next few years shows a lack of knowledge about us and the situation in Syria.
The Syrians of today are the guest workers of that time
Germany should change its view of us Syrians. The debate must not only revolve around the return, but must finally acknowledge how much the people here have built up, often under difficult conditions. Of course, many Syrians will return to Syria if they want to. No one argues that all Syrians want to stay in Germany permanently.
However, many Syrians have long since become part of this society: as doctors, craftsmen, journalists, students and neighbors. They are involved in political parties, cultural centers and associations. They work as bus, train or truck drivers and in many other professions. They have built networks, created businesses and families, and contributed to life in this country every day. But in political and public discourse, there is a lack of respect for this achievement.
Germany should have learned from its history of so-called guest workers. You can't just send people back after they have long since become part of society. They would be missing here. When Germany constantly talks about return, it builds walls and parallel societies, it pushes people out of society. After all, how are they supposed to continue to feel connected to a country that constantly questions their right to exist?
The welcoming culture was one of the most important reasons why many Syrians in Germany were able to successfully integrate and build a new life. It has created trust and given people the opportunity to become part of this society. Precisely for this reason, the welcome was more than a humanitarian gesture, it was also an investment in the future. This applies not only to Syria, but to many countries.
Germany should say goodbye to the image of Syria as a pure war zone. Syria can play an important role economically, culturally and geopolitically in the future – also for Europe. Germany benefits in the long term when the people who have arrived here can act as bridge-builders between their countries of origin and their new homeland: for investments, in education, with language skills, culture and through partnerships.
Perhaps German schools, universities or cafés will be built in Syria in the future. Maybe people there learn German; and then no longer to escape, but to build relationships. Because in the end, that's exactly what remains in any case: relationships between people.