Kurds fear resurgence of Islamic State group in Syria

As the new Syria struggles to take shape, old threats reappear.

The chaos since the overthrow of Bashar al-Assad is “paving the way” for the return of the so-called Islamic State (IS), according to a top Kurdish commander who helped defeat the jihadist group in Syria in 2019. The return has already started.

“Daesh activities [IS] has increased significantly and the danger of a resurgence has doubled,” according to General Mazloum Abdi, commander of the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), a U.S.-backed alliance of mainly Kurdish militias. “They now have more capabilities and more opportunities.”

It claims that IS militants seized weapons and ammunition left behind by Syrian regime troops, according to intelligence reports.

And he warns that there is “a real threat” that militants will try to break into SDF-run prisons here in northeast Syria, where around 10,000 of their men are held. The SDF also detains around 50,000 family members in camps.

Our interview with the general took place late at night, at a location we cannot disclose.

He welcomed the fall of the Assad regime, which arrested him four times. But he looked tired and admitted frustration at the prospect of fighting old battles again.

“We fought against them [IS] and paid 12,000 souls,” he said, referring to SDF losses. “I think at some level we will have to get back to where we were before.”

The risk of an IS resurgence is heightened, he says, because the SDF is under increasing attacks from neighboring Turkey – and rebel factions it supports – and must divert some fighters to this battle. He tells us that the SDF had to end counterterrorism operations against ISIS and that hundreds of prison guards – out of thousands – returned home to defend their villages.

Ankara views the SDF as an extension of the PKK, outlawed Kurdish separatists who have waged an insurgency for decades and are classified as terrorists by the US and EU. He has long wanted a 30 km “buffer zone” in the Kurdish region of northeast Syria. Since the fall of Assad, the country has redoubled its efforts to obtain it.

“The number one threat now is Turkey because its airstrikes are killing our forces,” General Abdi said. “These attacks must stop, because they distract us from our focus on the security of detention centers,” he said, “although we will always do our best.”

At Al-Sina, the largest prison for ISIS detainees, we saw the security levels and felt the tension among staff.

The former educational institute in the town of Al Hasakah houses around 5,000 men, suspected fighters or supporters of ISIS.

Each cell door is padlocked and secured with three bolts. The corridors are divided into sections by heavy iron doors. The guards are masked, batons in hand. Access here is rare.

We were able to peek inside two cells, but we were unable to speak to the men inside. They were told we were journalists and given the opportunity to hide their faces. Few have done it. Most sat silently on blankets and thin mattresses. Two men paced around the room.

Kurdish security sources say most of the Al-Sina prisoners were on the side of ISIS until its last stand and were deeply committed to its ideology.

We were taken to meet a thin, soft-spoken 28-year-old inmate who did not want to be named. He said he spoke freely, although he didn't want to say much on key issues.

He told us he left his native Australia at the age of 19 to visit his grandmother in Cyprus.

“From there, one thing led to another,” he said, “and I ended up in Aleppo.” He said he was working with an NGO in the city of Raqqa when ISIS took power.

I asked if he had blood on his hands and was he involved in someone's murder? “No, I wasn’t,” he replied, barely audible.

And did he support what ISIS was doing? “I do not wish to answer this question because it could have an effect on my case,” he replied.

He hopes to return to Australia one day, although he doesn't know if he will be welcome there.

Behind the barbed wire of the Roj camp, about a three-hour drive away, there is also hope that freedom is coming. Either way.

This desolate stretch of tents – surrounded by walls, fences and watchtowers – is home to nearly 3,000 women and children. They have never been tried or convicted, but they are families of IS fighters and supporters.

There are several British women in the camp. We met three of them, briefly. All said their lawyers had asked them not to speak.

In a windswept corner, we encountered a woman ready to talk: Saida Temirbulatova, 47, a former tax inspector from Dagestan. Her nine-year-old son Ali stood quietly by her side. She hopes Assad's overthrow will mean freedom for both.

“The new leader Ahmed al-Sharaa [the head of the Islamist group Hayat Tahrir al-Sham] gave a speech saying he would give everyone their freedom. We also want freedom. We want to leave, most likely for Russia. This is the only country that will welcome us.”

The camp manager tells us that others think ISIS will come to their rescue and take them out of the camp. She asked us not to use her name because she fears for her safety.

“Since the fall of Assad, the camp has been calm. Generally, when it is this calm, it means that the women are organizing,” she explained. “They've packed their bags, ready to leave. They're saying, 'We're going to get out of this camp soon and renew ourselves. We'll come back as ISIS.'”

She says there is a visible change, even among children, who chant slogans and swear at passers-by. “They say, ‘We’ll come back for you. [IS] coming soon.'”

During our time at camp, many children raised the index finger of their right hand. This gesture is used by all Muslims in daily prayer, but it is also widely used by ISIS militants in propaganda images.

The women of the Roj camp are not the only ones packing their bags.

Some Kurdish civilians in the town of Al-Hasakah are doing the same, fearing a return of jihadists and a new ground offensive by Turkey in northeastern Syria.

Jewan, 24, who teaches English, is preparing to leave – reluctantly.

“I've packed my bag, and I'm preparing my ID card and important documents,” he told me. “I don't want to leave my home and my memories, but we all live in a state of constant fear. The Turks threaten us and the doors are open to ISIS. They can attack their prisons. They can do anything .they want.”

Jewan has already been displaced once from the northwestern city of Aleppo at the start of Syria's civil war in 2011. He wonders where to go this time.

“The situation requires urgent international intervention to protect civilians,” he said. I ask him if he thinks it will come. “No,” he replies softly. But he asks me to mention his plea.

Additional reporting by Michael Steininger and Matthew Goddard