Anagha Subhash Nair is a multimedia journalist based between Lebanon and Syria. She has reported from the region for Foreign Policy, New Lines Magazine, Anadolu Agency and other outlets.
Cian Ward is a freelance journalist based in Damascus, covering conflict, political, and humanitarian issues in the Middle East. (Twitter @CP__Ward)
Like many Syrians enduring the 14-year Syrian civil war, Omar* fled the tyranny of the Assad regime with his parents in 2017. While he no longer has a reason to stay in Lebanon, where his family had sought refuge, the situation for him and many other Syrian refugees is more complicated.
"I left in order to be safe. I was scared of Assad," he explains. "My family has returned to Syria, so why would I stay?"
But Omar can't go back to Syria. His voice crackles through a phone discreetly held up to his ear, as he crouches in the corner of a Lebanese prison cell. Outside the window to his right, he sees a few other inmates in the courtyard of Roumieh prison, which crowns the top of a hill in central Lebanon.
Omar was detained in Lebanon's largest prison on terror charges last year. He does not know when he will see a court date, as the country's legal system permits indefinite pre-trial detention for terror suspects.
The 28 year old says he was an activist who worked to illuminate human rights abuses committed by the Lebanese authorities on refugees in Arsal camp, one of hundreds of informal camps established by Syrians who fled the war. "[They didn't] want what's happening there to get out," he explains. He believes his work has made him a target.
Following his release after an initial five-month detention, he was taken into custody again last summer.
The sudden fall of the Bashar Al-Assad regime last December offered a glimmer of hope for Omar and his jail mates. In January 2025, a deal was seemingly struck between Syria's Foreign Affairs Ministry and then-Prime Minister of Lebanon Najib Mikati regarding the repatriation of Syrian detainees. At the time of publication, the Syrian Foreign Ministry hadn't responded to requests for comment on the issue.
Now, in Lebanon's Roumieh prison, Syrian prisoners clamor for release. Through sit-ins, hunger strikes and riots, they hope the Lebanese authorities will accede to their demands to be repatriated to Syria.
- : Anagha Nair and Cian Ward
Now, in Lebanon's Roumieh prison, Syrian prisoners clamor for release. Through sit-ins, hunger strikes and riots, they hope the Lebanese authorities will accede to their demands to be repatriated to Syria.
But the Syrian detainee file is complex.
Though a number are behind bars for their role in a rash of violent spillover attacks that plagued the small Mediterranean country throughout the Syrian civil war, others have been imprisoned for their affiliation to the Syrian opposition or simply fell prey to a justice system that is not always just or efficient.
According to the Syrian Network for Human Rights (SNHR), over 2,000 Syrians are detained in Lebanese prisons. Ghida Frangieh, lawyer and researcher at Legal Agenda, a Beirut-based nonprofit research and advocacy organization, estimates that about 450 people are detained in the "Islamists" building. Many are detained on charges related to terrorism—including Syrians.
Roumieh has long been considered severely overcrowded. A 2023 Human Rights Watch report states that the facility, meant for 1,200 people, was holding up to 4,000 prisoners at the time. Omar explains how prisoners often die while detained due to limited healthcare access. He says that the food they are provided is "horrible" and is often infested with insects.
Lebanon, housing an estimated 1.5 million Syrian refugees according to the UNHCR, is the world's second largest host of those who fled the nearly 14-year long civil war, and the highest per capita by far. Many who fled the onslaught of the Assad regime—a key ally of Lebanon's Hezbollah—were viewed with skepticism by the militant group for suspected links to the opposition.
Hezbollah, Lebanon's leading Shia political party with an armed wing stemming back to the country's 15-year civil war, was the country's dominant political force for decades until its decimation in the 2024 war with Israel. Its presence was felt in all aspects of the country's public sphere, including within the judicial system.
According to many of the prisoners charged with terror, Hezbollah's shadow looms large over their cases. Many of them are tried under a military justice system in Lebanon. Accusations that Hezbollah interferes with the military court system "is quite a popular narrative," says Frangieh.
She explains that the head of the military court is customary from the Shi'ite sect and most political parties "exercise influence in the courts through judges belonging to their sect."
That influence can be felt within the court—especially regarding what organizations it considers to be a terrorist entity. "It is also reported by many lawyers who work in the military court that judges sometimes get phone calls, whether [from] Hezbollah or other parties, intervening in certain cases," she adds.
In this regard, Lebanon's sclerotic procedural processes also constitute a primary challenge facing the judicial system and detainees like Omar. According to Frangieh, one of the "biggest problems" is simply the transfer of detainees to court, as the Internal Security Forces lack resources and personnel.
Terror cases, often conducted as mass trials, "always take a long time" due to their complexity. The fact that every detainee and their respective lawyer must be present for the court to move forward only adds to this problem. "If one prisoner is sick, or one lawyer unable to attend, the whole hearing needs to be postponed," she explains.
Torture and forced confessions also plague the justice system. Omar explains how, "In [my] first three months, [I] was investigated under torture."
- : Anagha Nair and Cian Ward
Torture and forced confessions also plague the justice system. Omar explains how, "In [my] first three months, [I] was investigated under torture."
"They put a bag on my head and tied my hands behind me, leaving me standing there for 12 hours. They would hit me randomly and electrocute me."
Mohamed Sablouh, a lawyer, human rights defender and head of the Cedar Centre for Legal studies, says that similar practices are "systemic" in Lebanon.
"The military court doesn't recognize the torture, and on the contrary, covers up crimes of torture against detainees. At the same time, unfortunately, the judiciary in Lebanon doesn't hold the security authorities accountable for extracting confessions under torture," he explains.
Sablouh defended Bashar Abdel Saud, a Syrian refugee who died of torture at the hands of Lebanese State Security, which detained him under terrorism accusations in 2022. Two years later, the military court dismissed charges of torture as a felony against the officers implicated in his death, but convicted them of "torture as a misdemeanor that did not result in any physical or mental harm to other prisoners," according to Frangieh.
"We have only one case where security officers were convicted of torturing detainees suspected of terrorism."
She adds that the case is significant because, in an unprecedented move, the investigative judge decided to dismiss statements from other detainees implicated in Saud's file. "The Supreme Court decided to dismiss their confession of belonging to ISIS because it was taken under torture, and there was sufficient evidence around that."
Sablouh says that the convicted officers still work in the Lebanese security establishment.
The Syrians in Lebanon's prison system may either be convicted or held in pretrial detention. Frangieh explains that for those who have been convicted, it may be possible for both governments to strike an agreement, allowing them to "serve the rest of their sentence in Syria." But for those in pre-trial detention, their deportation to Syria is more complicated due to the nature of mass trials, as there may be multiple people charged in the same terrorism case.
"It may be difficult for the court to release one defendant in order to deport him to Syria while continuing the trial with the others, as they often need to assess the case as a whole and may need to confront defendants in case of contradictions in their statements," she explains.
Equally important, the notion of a blanket amnesty presents the possibility of people escaping accountability. Lebanon has a history of general amnesty for those implicated in crimes committed during its civil war. "Our whole modern political project is based on the concept of amnesty, which we believe is one of the main reasons for our current political deadlock."
Instead, Frangieh believes that the focus should be on "seeking further cooperation with Syria and speeding up the trials."
Meanwhile, within the four walls of his Roumieh cell, Omar says that he is tired of the monotony of prison life. He spends a lot of his day thinking about what he would do as a free man. "I think about listening to music; my father bringing me sweets," he says, wistfully.
"When you're in pain, you turn to your good memories."
*Name changed to protect identity
