Kurds fear resurgence of Islamic State group in Syria

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

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

“Daesh (IS) activity has increased significantly and the danger of a resurgence has doubled,” according to General Mazloum Abdi, commander of the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), a US-backed alliance of mainly Kurdish militias. “We have more capabilities and more opportunities.”

It says IS militants have seized some weapons and ammunition left 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 northeastern Syria, which are holding around 10,000 of their men. The SDF also keeps about 50,000 of their relatives in camps.

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

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

“We fought against them (IS) and paid 12,000 souls,” he said, referring to the SDF’s losses. “I think on some level we’re going to have to get back to where we were before.”

The risk of an IS resurgence increases, he says, because the SDF is coming under increasing attacks from neighboring Turkey – and the rebel factions it supports – and must divert some fighters to that battle. He tells us that the SDF has had to stop counter-terrorism operations against IS, and hundreds of prison guards (out of a force of thousands) have returned home to defend their villages.

Ankara sees the SDF as an extension of the PKK, banned Kurdish separatists who have waged an insurgency for decades and are classified as terrorists by the US and EU. Türkiye has long wanted a 30-kilometer “buffer zone” in the Kurdish region in northeastern Syria. Since the fall of Assad, he is pushing harder to achieve this.

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

Inside Al-Sina, the largest prison for IS detainees, we saw the layers of security and felt the tension among the staff.

The former educational institute in the city of Al-Hasakah houses around 5,000 men, suspected of being IS fighters or supporters.

The door of each cell is padlocked and secured with three bolts. The hallways are divided into sections by heavy iron doors. The guards are masked and have batons in hand. Getting access here is rare.

We were allowed a look inside two cells, but we were not able to speak to the men inside. They told them that we were journalists and gave them the option of hiding their faces. Few did. Most sat quietly on blankets and thin mattresses. Two men were pacing the room.

Kurdish security sources say most of the prisoners at Al-Sina were with IS until its last stand and were deeply committed to its ideology.

They took us to meet a thin, soft-spoken 28-year-old detainee who did not want to be identified. He said he was speaking freely, although on the key issues he did not say much.

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 claimed he was working with an NGO in the city of Raqqa when IS took power.

I asked him if he had blood on his hands and if he was involved in killing someone. “No, I wasn’t,” he replied, barely audibly.

And did you support what IS was doing? “I don’t want to answer that question because it might have some effect on my case,” he responded.

He hopes to return to Australia one day, although he is not sure if he will be welcomed.

About a three-hour drive from Al-Sina, behind the wire fence of the Roj camp, many believe that freedom is coming. Somehow.

This desolate expanse of tents, surrounded by walls, fences and watchtowers, is home to almost 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 field. We briefly met three of them. They all said their lawyers had told them not to talk.

In a windswept corner we meet a woman ready to talk: Saida Temirbulatova, 47, a former tax inspector from Dagestan. Her son Ali, nine years old, remained silent at 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 that he will give everyone their freedom. We want freedom too. We want to leave, most likely to Russia. It is the only country that will accept us.”

The camp director tells us that others believe that IS will come to rescue them and escape. He asked us not to use his name because he fears for his safety.

“Since the fall of Assad, the camp is calm. Normally, when it is so calm, it means that the women are organizing,” she said. “They have packed their bags and are ready to go. They say: ‘We will leave this camp soon and we will renew ourselves. We will return as IS.'”

She says there is a visible change, even among children, who chant slogans and curse passersby. “They say, ‘We’ll come back to look for you. ISIS will be here soon.'”

During our stay at the camp many children raised the index finger of their right hand. This gesture is used in Islamic prayer, but was also used by IS militants.

The women at Roj’s camp aren’t the only ones packing their bags.

Some Kurdish civilians in the city of Al-Hasakah are doing the same: they fear a return of jihadists and another Turkish ground offensive in northeastern Syria. This would be the fourth invasion by Turkish forces. Expected soon.

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

“I have packed my suitcase and I am preparing my ID and my important documents,” he tells 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 for IS. They can attack your prisons. They can do whatever they want.”

Jewan was displaced once before from the northwestern city of Aleppo, at the start of Syria’s civil war in 2011. This time he is wondering where to go.

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

Additional reporting by Michael Steininger, Matthew Goddard and Jewan Abdi