Amidst the complexities of bureaucratic procedures and migration policies, Syrians and other refugees in Turkey face a challenging reality irrespective of their legal status in the country, exemplified by inhumane treatment and systemic violence by Turkish immigration authorities.
My interlocutor, Faris–whose name has been changed to protect him from retaliation, represents one such case as a college-educated 26-year-old man who resided in Gaziantep. Holding a Temporary Protection Status (TPS) card, he had been navigating the precarious landscape of asylum and resettlement since moving to Turkey. Recently, a message in a WhatsApp group informed him that he could verify the status of his resettlement file through the UNHCR website.
Upon checking, he found that his file was active and he contacted the number provided on the website seeking clarification. A UNHCR officer indicated that progress might have been delayed due to the need to update his information—a requirement familiar to many Syrians in Turkey. This "updating of information" is widely recognized as a tactic of bureaucratic control, compelling Syrians to visit the Göç İdaresi (migration authority) for burdensome procedures.
Aware of these obstacles, Faris prepared to visit the Gaziantep Göç İdaresi, equipped with the knowledge that he could request a "safe room" to address the necessary updates. He approached the office with his mother and sister accompanying him, confident despite the system glitch that resulted in an erroneous code for updating his accommodation information.
Upon arrival, he was unlawfully denied access to the safe room. He presented his TPS ID card, only to be told that it was not functioning. Attempts to involve his lawyer were unsuccessful, as the migration officer refused to engage with them or provide any explanations about the supposedly nonfunctional ID card.
When he requested to speak with a higher-ranking officer, he was met with hostility and condescension: "Who do you think you are?" Within minutes, security forces arrested him and claimed they were taking him to a police station, despite protests from his mother and sister.
No Justice or Due Process
Contrary to the information provided by the officers, Faris was taken to a migration deportation caravan. He managed to share his live location with his sister before his phone was confiscated by the police. Inside the caravan, five personnel and another detained individual awaited him. His fingerprint scan revealed an active ID with no issues, yet the officers still debated whether to detain him.
As he recounted, "they were looking for the problem and not the solution."
Ultimately, the decision was made to detain him anyway just to "hit the target" of the day, illustrating the arbitrary nature of these detentions. Deportation quotas, official or unofficial, result in even law-abiding refugees being detained and forcibly sent back to Syria or other dangerous countries.
As time went on, others joined Faris in the deportation caravan. A 15-year-old boy, apprehended while on his way to visit neighbors, and a couple whose fingerprints showed active IDs but had forgotten their cards at home, were among them. A 21-year-old with an active ID and an “accommodation registration code” was also taken.
After being held in the caravan, they were transported to the Yeşil Vadi police station, where their situation further deteriorated. As he tried to reason with the officers, explaining his status as a full-time student at the University of Gaziantep, they met him with derisive laughter. The reality he faced at the police station and afterward shattered any illusions of justice or due process.
Without access to their deportation papers, the detainees were placed in a small, poorly ventilated room lacking basic amenities–just a single sink, no air conditioning, no fan, and no windows. By 7 p.m., the room contained 36 men, with an additional 21 arriving within two hours. Nearby, approximately 20 women and children were held in similar conditions in another room, with no access to food, water, or adequate ventilation.
Faris, fluent in Turkish, attempted to engage with an officer, but this resulted in threats of violence. Officers instructed him to leave the room, presumably to avoid CCTV cameras while administering punishment, but verbal abuse fortunately did not escalate into physical violence. Following this incident, the "head officer" distributed approximately 20 juice boxes to the 36 men, who shared the limited resources.
After approximately two hours, without access to communication devices or timekeeping, the detainees were loaded onto two buses—segregated by gender—and transported to a facility near Kilis city, in the village of Elbeyli, close to the Syrian border.
Physical Assault and Forged Fingerprints
The camp was akin to a walled military facility with four caravans, one designated for fingerprinting and processing deportation papers. The other caravans functioned as temporary accommodations for detainees. The conditions were inadequate for human habitation, with poor ventilation and unsanitary sleeping arrangements. Faris reported standing throughout his stay, unable to rest due to the lack of seating and insufficient provision of food and water. Requests for water were met with derision, as officers suggested utilizing the toilet, which initially had no water supply.
The camp was characterized by Faris as a temporary holding facility, although some detainees had been there for several days.
One individual reportedly paid 1,000 euros to make a phone call. During this call, a lawyer assured him that he and his wife could avoid deportation if he paid 6,000. This individual observed numerous instances of violent treatment, and it appeared that detainees typically did not stay at the camp for more than seven hours before deportation.
Among those detained were two men from Yemen and Algeria, both subject to arbitrary detention. The Algerian man was in poor physical health, with an amputated leg and a severe skin condition. He remained isolated, showing signs of significant distress. The Yemeni man had left his hotel in Istanbul without his passport and lost consciousness during the journey to Kilis. Despite the officers' awareness of their nationalities, both men remained in the camp for two days and were still detained by the time Faris departed the camp.
The camp was reportedly designed to exert psychological pressure on detainees, intended to coerce them into unjustified deportations. Deprived of basic necessities, many detainees became desperate, leading them to provide fingerprints and consent to “voluntarily return” to Syria. Those who resisted were either physically assaulted or had their fingerprints forcibly taken. Faris witnessed one instance of fingerprint forging and observed two individuals being hit with sticks after refusing to sign deportation documents due to their families residing in Turkey. Signing these documents resulted in being barred from re-entering Turkey indefinitely.
Faris estimated that the camp housed over 800 individuals, with 190 in the caravan room alone. Prior to their group, 30 individuals had been deported. Of the 190, four remained: the other Syrian man and his wife, the Algerian, and the Yemeni. Detainees were released in three groups. Due to his fluency in Turkish, Faris assisted in managing the list of names, a task complicated by the officers' lack of Arabic proficiency and the repetition of certain names.
Faris was part of the second group to leave, with the first departing the camp at 3 a.m. His group left at 9 a.m., aboard a bus designed for 20 passengers carrying 40 to 50 people. Personal belongings were placed in a large black plastic bag, including mobile phones, IDs, bank cards, and other items–cigarettes were notably missing upon arrival in Syria. The journey from Elbeyli took approximately 30 minutes, with three officers on board—a soldier, the driver, and a security officer.
Upon reaching the Turkish-Syrian border, police verified their papers, photographed the detainees, and transferred them to Syrian authorities. The detainees received a document permitting them to remain in areas controlled by the Interim Syrian Government for three days, after which they were required to leave or apply for residency. The document, titled “إﻟﻰ اﻟﻌودة ﺑطﺎﻗﺔ ﺳورﯾﺎ,” meaning "Return to Syria Card," was printed in both Arabic and Turkish and included the detainees' birth year and the phrase "forcibly deported."
Faris’s journey is emblematic of the coercive forces at play, having been forced to flee his homeland and now facing deportation back there, compelled to begin anew in an unfamiliar region while being separated from his family, who remain in Turkey.
A Facade for State Violence
Contrary to popular belief, Northwest Syria is not a safe haven for Syrians–it is an extension of Turkish control and state violence. This situation exemplifies the ongoing violations of human rights and crimes against humanity committed under the guise of migration control. The Turkish government utilizes arbitrary laws and policies as tools of repression, systematically subjecting Syrians to dehumanizing treatment in order to appease a xenophobic voting bloc.
Temporary Protection Status (TPS) in Turkey, often criticized for denying Syrians the full rights afforded to refugees, functions primarily as a mechanism to exert power over millions of Syrian lives. Rather than offering sanctuary, TPS is manipulated to exert control and maintain dominance over vulnerable populations.
This purported protection serves as a facade for the exercise of state violence on a massive scale, reducing Syrians to subjects to be managed and expelled rather than as human beings entitled to refuge and dignity.
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