Thousands of Syrians line up at Turkish, Lebanese borders
n extraordinary turn of events that has shaken the geopolitical landscape of the Middle East, the fall of Bashar al-Assad’s regime has triggered a wave of returns among the Syrian refugee population scattered across neighboring countries. From the border crossings of Lebanon and Turkey, thousands of Syrians are now on the move — not in flight, but in homecoming.
This is the story of their return, their fears, hopes, and the political complexities shadowing their journey.
A Nation in Waiting
Ever since the outbreak of Syria’s civil war in 2011, millions of Syrians have fled their homeland, seeking refuge in nearby countries. Turkey and Lebanon became the primary hosts for these displaced populations. According to UNHCR, over 3.5 million Syrians took shelter in Turkey, while Lebanon absorbed more than a million — a significant burden on its already fragile socio-economic fabric.
For over a decade, these refugees lived in a state of limbo. Many lived in sprawling camps or impoverished urban areas, excluded from local economies, targeted by xenophobic rhetoric, and subject to ever-shifting political winds.
But with Assad ousted by a coalition of rebel militias and opposition forces, a new chapter has begun.
The Fall of the Regime
The toppling of the Assad government, achieved after a final series of intense clashes involving multiple opposition groups, foreign influences, and internal dissenters, was confirmed over the weekend. With Damascus falling under opposition control and Assad reportedly fleeing to a foreign country, celebratory gunfire and emotional gatherings erupted in many Syrian towns.
Across the border, the emotional reaction among the diaspora was swift. News of Assad’s ousting sparked immediate activity at key border crossings — particularly Masnaa on the Lebanese-Syrian frontier and Oncupinar and Cilvegozu along the Turkish-Syrian border.
Stories from the Border
At Cilvegozu, located in Turkey’s Hatay province, long queues of men, women, and children waited anxiously. Some clutched Syrian flags — not the red, white, and black one with two green stars used by the Assad regime, but the green-striped rebel version.
Hamid Mahmud, 39, stood near the front of the queue. “I arrived in Turkey from Aleppo in 2014,” he said, eyes glistening with emotion. “God willing, our future will be good. Syria is getting back on its feet. We won’t start from zero.”
Scenes like these were replicated at Oncupinar, close to Kilis, and further east near Yayladagi Hudut. Smiles and tears mingled as families, some separated for years, reunited or began the journey to reclaim abandoned homes.
In Lebanon, the crossing at Masnaa witnessed similar crowds. Damascus, less than an hour’s drive away, was suddenly within reach. For many, it had been a lost city — a memory, a dream, or a wound.
A Mixed Welcome
Though many Syrians are jubilant, the path home is riddled with challenges. “The cities are destroyed, infrastructure is crumbling, and local governance is unclear,” said Rania H., a Syrian aid worker who has been tracking the returnees.
Moreover, the new power configuration in Syria — a patchwork of rebel factions and local councils — raises uncertainty. There are also fears of retribution and political purges against those perceived as affiliated with the regime.
In an attempt to manage expectations, local opposition councils have announced the creation of Return Committees to facilitate safe passage and support resettlement. Yet, the lack of coordination with international aid organizations has already resulted in some bottlenecks at the border.
Turkey’s Calculated Strategy
President Recep Tayyip Erdogan, long an advocate of a controversial open-door policy toward Syrians, has seized the moment. Speaking from Ankara, he declared the voluntary return of refugees a national priority. “We will manage the voluntary return process of immigrants in a way that suits our history, culture, and our 13 years of exceptional welcome,” he said.
But observers note another motivation: domestic pressure. Turkish public opinion has grown increasingly hostile toward Syrian refugees, whom many blame for economic woes. Anti-Syrian sentiment has led to violent incidents in cities like Ankara and Istanbul.
Turkey has received over 10 billion euros in EU funds to manage migration, largely under agreements to block the movement of refugees toward Europe. With Assad gone, Erdogan now has an opportunity to begin repatriation — on his own terms.
Lebanon’s Push
Unlike Turkey, Lebanon has made no secret of its desire to see Syrians leave. In a country facing one of the worst financial collapses in modern history, many Lebanese view the refugee population as an unbearable strain.
The Lebanese government has been quietly pressuring Syrians to repatriate, even before Assad’s fall. NGOs have reported cases of forced returns and discrimination. Now, with the regime out of the picture, officials are overtly assisting departures. Reports suggest expedited processing at crossings like Masnaa and increased transport support.
Return Under Watch
NGOs, rights groups, and UN agencies have expressed caution. “Returns must be voluntary, dignified, and informed,” said a spokesperson for UNHCR. “We are monitoring the situation closely.”
Critics argue that the political vacuum in Syria creates new dangers. “Just because Assad is gone doesn’t mean it’s safe,” said Faysal al-Din, a Syrian human rights lawyer. “There’s still a risk of factional violence, revenge killings, or arbitrary rule.”
Aid groups are calling for international oversight and for the inclusion of Syrian civil society in the reconstruction process. Yet, the global response has been muted — perhaps due to the fatigue of a conflict that has dragged on for more than a decade.
A Future Unwritten
For returnees, the reality is bittersweet. Many are returning to destroyed homes, overgrown villages, and uncertain political climates. But they are returning nonetheless — driven by hope, fatigue, or necessity.
Noura, a 27-year-old woman traveling with her two children at the Cilvegozu crossing, summed it up best: “In Turkey, we survived. But in Syria, maybe we can live again.”
Back in Aleppo, Homs, and even parts of Deir ez-Zor, celebrations have erupted. People are painting over old regime slogans. New community councils are being formed. Rebel leaders promise peace and reconstruction.
Still, questions abound: Who will fund the rebuilding? Will warlords become the new rulers? What role will international powers play?
For now, one truth is certain: Syria is no longer under Assad. And for millions of its people, scattered by war, the journey home — painful, hopeful, and uncertain — has begun.