Islamic State members held for years in a Syria prison say they know nothing of the world

A man accused of being an Islamic State fighter are among prisoners inside a cell at the Gweiran Prison, now called Panorama, in Hassakeh, northeastern Syria, on Jan. 31, 2025. (Bernat Armangue / AP Photo)

HASSAKEH, Syria — Men of various ages and nationalities sit silently in their cells, a small window in the metal doors their only opening to the world. All are alleged members of the Islamic State group, captured during the final days of the extremists' so-called caliphate declared in large parts of Iraq and Syria.

The Gweiran Prison, now called Panorama has held about 4,500 IS-linked detainees for years. The Associated Press was given an exclusive visit to the prison, nearly two months after the fall of the 54-year Assad dynasty in Syria — an upheaval the detainees might not even know about as prison officials try to limit outside information.

Syrian President Bashar Assad’s ouster during a lightning insurgent offensive in December has led to new attention, and new pressures, on such detention centres in the country’s northeast that have been holding some 9,000 IS members without trial.

The centres are guarded by members of the U.S.-backed and Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces that in March 2019 captured the last sliver of land that IS members once held, the eastern town of Baghouz.

SDF chief commander Mazloum Abdi told the AP that after the fall of Assad, IS members captured large amounts of weapons in eastern Syria from posts abandoned by forces loyal to the former president.

An SDF security official warned that the extremists might attack detention facilities and try to free their comrades. He spoke on condition of anonymity in line with regulations.

The detainees are “a literal and figurative ‘ISIS army’ in detention,” Gen. Michael Erik Kurilla, commander of the U.S. Central Command, said during a visit to Syria last month.

The prison visit occurred in a corridor with six cells on each side and with masked guards holding clubs. A window in a cell door was opened, and the detainees were told they could speak briefly to journalists.

A young man moved forward and identified himself as Maher, a nurse from Melbourne, Australia. Prison authorities asked that only first names be used.

“I’d love to go back to Australia,” the man said, adding that he was not arrested in 2019 in Baghouz but gave himself up when the U.S.-led coalition opened a humanitarian corridor.

“I didn’t do anything to anyone. I’ve been here for seven years without judgement. Without anything,” he said, and expressed regret for “a lot of things.”

Maher said he married a Syrian woman and has two sons, and they are at one of the camps housing families of IS members in northeast Syria. He said he has not had information about them, and that he sent a letter to his parents via the International Committee of the Red Cross and never received an answer.

The security of the detention centres is a growing question since Assad’s fall.

One of the most serious threats to the centres came in January 2022 when IS gunmen stormed the prison, leading to 10 days of battles with the SDF that left nearly 500 people dead.

The prison, formerly the classrooms of a technical school, was later renovated with the help of the U.S.-led coalition. Security was tight when the AP visited, with armed fighters stationed on roads leading to the facility.

But SDF officials have said that recent clashes between their fighters and Turkey-backed gunmen in northern Syria, which coincided with the insurgent offensive that led to Assad’s fall, are affecting their ability to protect the prisons.

During a visit to Turkey last month by Syria’s foreign minister, Asaad al-Shibani, his Turkish counterpart Hakan Fidan told reporters that Ankara was ready to help Syrian authorities manage the detention centers as well as the camps where more than 40,000 people, many of them women and children, with alleged IS links are held.

But the SDF chief commander didn’t welcome the idea.

“The way Turkey can help is to stop its attacks on us so that we concentrate on the protection of al-Hol and the prisons,” Abdi said.

He added that the fate of al-Hol and other prisons can be solved within Syria. The country’s future is being discussed in talks between the SDF, which controls nearly 25% of Syria, and the new government in Damascus led by the Hayat Tahrir al-Sham group.

Inside the cells, the men wait for word on their own fate.

A British prisoner from London who asked that his name not be made public said he wants to return to Britain and stand trial there. He was 18 when he came to Syria a decade ago after seeing media reports on “the killings of kids” by Assad’s government forces during a popular uprising that turned into civil war.

He said he later wanted to leave Syria but could not.

“Once you enter (IS) it’s hard to leave,” he said.

He claimed he had not been a fighter but bought and sold cars while living in IS-held areas. He said all men captured by the SDF in the Baghouz area in early 2019 were classified as IS members.

Seven years have passed in detention.

“To survive a day in this place is a miracle,” he said, adding that he and fellow detainees know nothing of the world now, not even the date.

Asked what day it was, he replied: “We are in early 2025.”

Bassem Mroue, The Associated Press