Remnants of the War: Syrians from Germany Helping with Reconstruction - But Remain Wary of Moving Back
SOURCE:Spiegel International
Architects, IT experts, doctors, engineers: Syrians from Germany are doing what they can to help with the reconstruction of their old homeland. But lingering security concerns and an attachment to their new home is keeping many from moving.
The stones are piled up on both sides of the path, the remains of building walls jutting up behind them. Dima Dayoub, a 41-year-old architect in a gray T-shirt and sneakers, strides past the mountains of rubble. It’s late October, but the thermometer here in the northern Syrian city of Aleppo still reads 27 degrees Celsius.
"From some places here in the Suk, you can even see the citadel up on the mountain,” says Dayoub. The Suk, the historic marketplace, was once covered, with massive stone arches supporting its roof. But they collapsed when soldiers loyal to former strongman Bashar al-Assad bombed rebel groups in the city with Russian backing. Since then, the market has been open to the sky.
The article you are reading originally appeared in German in issue 47/2025 (November 14th, 2025) of DER SPIEGEL.
The city center of Aleppo is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site, but after 13 years of war, much of it lies in ruin. Prior to the beginning of hostilities in 2011, around 120,000 people lived there, but Dayoub estimates that only a third now remain. "If I could, I would rebuild the entire old city to give the people their history back,” she says. "It is a symbol of Aleppo’s identity.”
The old suk of Aleppo. Before the war, it was covered by a roof.
Foto: Alice Martins / DER SPIEGEL
Traffic in Aleppo. Life is returning to the cities of Syria.
Foto: Alice Martins / DER SPIEGEL
Dayoub studied architecture in Aleppo and traveled to Germany in 2013 on a student visa. She completed her master’s degree in Stuttgart, became a German citizen and has worked for more than eight years as a project coordinator at the Museum of Islamic Art in Berlin. She is also one of the most important contacts for the Syrian Heritage Archive Project, which was founded in 2013 in cooperation with the German Archaeological Institute. In recent years, Dayoub and her colleagues have collected and digitalized countless photos, plans and documents from Syria, with the archive now including around 30,000 records on buildings, some of them several centuries old. Without this documentation, it would likely be almost impossible to restore the structures to their original states.
"Across all the years, I never lost hope that we will rebuild our country,” says Dayoub.
Since December 8, 2024, a lot has become possible in Syria again, even if the situation in the country remains dangerous. On that day, Islamist rebels conquered the capital of Damascus and toppled the Assad regime. In January 2025, rebel leader and former al-Qaida member Ahmed al-Sharaa became interim president and has shown a less radical side since then.
Now, the time has come to rebuild the country, It is a gigantic undertaking, with the World Bank estimating it will cost almost 200 billion euros – fully 10 times Syria’s gross domestic product. But money isn’t the only problem. There is a lack of artisans, engineers, doctors and public administrators. Many Syrians in Germany have thus begun wondering how they might be able to contribute.
Some, like Dayoub, are already commuting between the two countries. This year, she says, she has spent more time for her job in Aleppo than she has in Berlin. Others are organizing donations from Germany, trying to launch development projects or using their vacation days to help out in their old homeland.
The question of return has become an existential one, and it weighs on the consciousness of many: How much responsibility do they bear for the country where they were born? And for the people who remained behind?
“The civil war in Syria is over. There is now no reason any longer for asylum in Germany, and as such, we can begin with repatriations."
German Chancellor Friedrich Merz
German Chancellor Friedrich Merz has clear expectations: "The civil war in Syria is over. There is now no reason any longer for asylum in Germany, and as such, we can begin with repatriations,” he said at the beginning of November. He added that he expects the majority of Syrian refugees to return home of their own accord and help with reconstruction efforts there.
Many Syrians who have been living here for years, paying taxes and contributing to society, found the chancellor’s comments unsettling. Just one day after Assad’s fall, Jens Spahn, the conservative floor leader in German parliament, proposed handing 1,000 euros to all those willing to return and charter flights for them back to Syria.
Following their extended exile, though, many Syrians have a hard time imagining a return to their old homeland – not to mention the rather unreliable security situation in the country, with fighting between armed groups having repeatedly flared up in different parts of the country in recent months. According to the German Federal Statistical Office, only around 22,000 of the roughly 1.2 million Syrians left Germany for other countries from January to September 2025.
Architect Dima Dayoub (second from left) with colleagues at Beyt Wakil.
Foto: Alice Martins / DER SPIEGEL
The roof of the Beyt Wakil. The structure was heavily damaged in the war.
Foto: Alice Martins / DER SPIEGEL
The dome of Beyt Wakil: Light coming in through the small windows.
Foto: Alice Martins / DER SPIEGEL
Even German conservatives are not all in agreement as to whether life in Syria is viable. Foreign Minister Johann Wadephul was apparently so shocked following his first visit to Damascus in late October that he said the situation in Syria was worse than in 1945 Germany. "People can hardly live in dignity here,” he said. Merz’s comments a few days later were a reaction to Wadephul’s statement.
Wadephul’s comparison may have been off the mark – and his message wasn’t particularly well received within his party, either – but many Syrians were grateful. It was a clear indication that he recognized just how disastrous the situation remains in many parts of the country. He also, from their perspective, struck the correct tone. Wadephul described Syrians living in Germany as a "human bridge” between the two countries, who could assist in normalizing relations. It was a perspective that reflected that held by many.
Dima Dayoub says that she feels at home in both Aleppo and in Berlin. "That’s not going to change.” When she talks about her work in Arabic, her speech is sprinkled with German words.
She sees it as a privilege to be able to work in both countries, Dayoub says, and is particularly proud of the restauration of the Beyt Wakil from the 17th century, the home of the Wakil family. It was a joint project between the Greek Orthodox Church in Aleppo, which owns the building, and the Museum of Islamic Art in Berlin.
Beyt Wakil is just a few minutes’ drive from the old Suk. It was heavily damaged in the war and by the strong earthquake that shook the city in February 2023. Early this year, Dayoub and her team began work on the project, which was financed by the Gerda Henkel Foundation, an organization that provides funding for the historical humanities. Beyt Wakil is also well-known in Germany: It is the source of the "Aleppo Room,” an intricately painted wooden paneling that is on display at the Museum of Islamic Art in Berlin.
The restored building was inaugurated in October. The doors remain open throughout the day so that everyone can seen what has risen out of the rubble: a structure made of different colored stone blocks with a large courtyard. The delicate ornamentation above the windows was recreated by Syrian stonemasons using the same type of rock that was originally used. Dayoub organized several workshops so that they could learn the necessary techniques.
She heads into one of the rooms inside and takes a seat, light streaming in through the small windows in the dome above her head. "You have to understand the old construction methods, the art of wall ornamentation, the language of the stone. Only then can you do justice to the city’s history,” she says.
Dayoub is hoping that many other projects will follow on the heels of the Beyt Wakil. And that she will continue to be able to commute for her job between Berlin and Aleppo.
Workers Beyt Wakil, restoring the ancient structure.
Foto: Alice Martins / DER SPIEGEL
Diaa Aldeen Alhindi has made his decision: He has left Germany. Since spring, the 34-year-old has been working for Syria’s Ministry of Administrative Development in Damascus as head of the directorate in charge of information technology and digital transformation. "Syrian Arab Republic,” reads a sign above the metal gate at the entrance. Somebody has removed the image of Assad that used to stand next to it.
Alhindi, dressed in a gray suit, is sitting at his desk on the second floor. His office is a plain room with black furniture, the Syrian flag hanging from a metal stand in the corner. Outside the window is a line of utilitarian buildings, air conditioners studding their plain, white facades. Unlike Aleppo’s old town, the administrative district in the city was not destroyed.
The office bore the exact same name under Assad, says Alhindi, but it was merely simple division designed to provide IT support. Today, it is much more than that. Fifteen staffers are working on software development and the digitalization of the administration, among other tasks. Numerous agencies in Germany have found digitalization hard enough – and in postwar Syria, it is even more difficult, partly due to the fact that, while some sanctions have been lifted, many are still in place.
In Germany, Alhindi says, he had grown used to working with software from SAP and Microsoft. "But we haven’t been allowed to use them here yet. Instead, we have had to develop our own, local solutions.” Such as a program they developed to allow administration workers to communicate via email or chat instead of just over the phone or in person.
Before moving to Damascus, Alhindi worked as an IT consultant and manager, most recently in Hamburg. But he has withdrawn his residency registration there, despite having lived in Germany for 10 years and becoming a citizen. His son, he says, was also born in Germany.
Alhindi says he feels an obligation to use his knowledge to contribute to reconstruction. Now, he says, his entire family is once again living in Syria.
He completed a master’s degree in international management in the Black Forest town of Furtwangen as one of 221 Syrian fellows funded by the German Academic Exchange Service (DAAD) starting in 2015. The program was called "Leadership for Syria,” launched with the goal of preparing participants for a leading role in the postwar reconstruction of their homeland.
"I am still grateful to the DAAD,” says Alhindi. "In comparison to others, who had to flee, my path to Germany seemed like a five-star trip.” Through the grant program, he was also able to take courses in German, democratic understanding and dialogue culture in the towns of Marburg and Kontanz.
He says he was "very happy” when Assad was toppled. Still, he was wary of taking a position serving the Syrian state. He says he was fully aware that the conditions and perspectives were not particularly promising. He hints at the fact that his salary is hardly enough to feed his family. And he often must remain in the office late into the night to complete his work. "I hope the situation improves soon.”
There are plenty of things he misses about Germany, he says. "Especially the view out of my window in Hamburg onto the green meadow.” His daughter was born in spring, and he is currently trying to figure out how to get her German citizenship. Alhindi’s connection to Germany remains strong.
From 2016 to 2024, around 244,000 people from Syria became German citizens, and interest in naturalization remains high. Getting a German passport doesn’t just mean being a citizen of a democracy, it also marks the end of refugee status. And that helps explain why so many Syrians from Germany feel comfortable helping out back in their homeland: They no longer have to be concerned about Germany revoking their status and preventing them from coming back into the country.
Syria’s new health minister, Musaab Alali, who doesn’t belong to a pollical party, also lived for many years in exile in Germany and became a naturalized citizen. The neurosurgeon worked at a clinic in the small Hessian town of Bad Wildungen, among other places, but he has been a cabinet minister in the Syrian transitional government since March. He has been quoted in the Arab media as saying that he sees Germany as an important partner for the reconstruction of the healthcare sector. He is hoping to benefit from the experience of the some 7,000 Syrian doctors in Germany.
One of those is Firas Alassil, an orthopedic surgeon in Dortmund. He says he knows the minister from Germany, adding: "We sometimes exchange messages on WhatsApp.” Alassil’s practice is on the western side of the city. His desk is covered with files; his waiting room is still full of patients on crutches at 5 p.m.
Alassil completed his medical studies in Syria before coming to Germany in 2005 for his specialist training. The war broke out six years later, making a return impossible. Alassil opened his practice in 2020. He and his colleagues work hard to ensure that no patient has to wait longer than four weeks for an appointment. Many in Germany complain about the shortage of doctors – but the extended waiting times for specialist appointments seems like a First World problem when compared to the situation in Syria.
The Syrian healthcare system "is collapsing,” reads a paper recently put out by the World Health Organization. "All hospitals and health centers are either non-functional or severely degraded,” the report notes, adding that around 16.5 million people, more than 65 percent of the population, are in urgent need of humanitarian aid. The extended war, the earthquakes and life under constant deprivation have taken their toll.
The German Ministry for Economic Cooperation and Development has responded with an investment of 15 million euros in so-called clinic partnerships: German and Syrian medical facilities working together to stabilize the healthcare sector. So far, 14 partnerships have been established.
The Association of German-Syrian Relief Organizations, of which Alassil is a member, has also received funding from the Germany Development Ministry to rebuild a hospital in Abu Kamal, the city where he was born. It was once a stronghold of the terror organization Islamic State, and the region is still considered to be one of the least safe in Syria.
In February, Alassil visited the region for the first time in many years to take a closer look at the situation there. He says, it was relatively safe to move about on the streets during the day. At night, though, it’s not a good idea to leave your home. "Nothing from the health sector remains. Really nothing!”
![The destroyed hospital in Abu Kamal: "Nothing from the health sector remains. Really nothing!”](https://cdn.prod.www.spiegel.de/images/4576ba1d-2508-4959-8fd8-e8a6cef92803_w520_r1.3333333333333333_fpx48.7_fpy50.94.jpg "The destroyed hospital in Abu Kamal: "Nothing from the health sector remains. Really nothing!”")
The destroyed hospital in Abu Kamal: "Nothing from the health sector remains. Really nothing!”
Foto: Dr. Firas Alassil / DER SPIEGEL
Destroyed buildings in Aleppo: The old town of Aleppo is a UNESCO World Heritage site.
Foto: Alice Martins / DER SPIEGEL
Alassil shows some pictures on his phone that he took when he was there. One of them shows part of a building with a charred roof, rubble and destroyed furniture lying around – the remains of a hospital. "That was before,” he says, before swiping onward. "This is what it looks like now.” The rooms are bright and freshly painted; metal beds are lined up next to each other.
"One floor is already done,” says Alassil. "We have managed to reestablish basic care.” He managed to arrange for 80 beds to be donated from Germany and brought to Abu Kamal. Eight doctors have returned to the clinic. "Things are running smoothly at the moment. But we are facing the problem that we don’t know how we are going to be able to pay salaries on the long term.” He says he can only hope that the government is soon able to ensure security.
Alassil has been to Syria twice this year. He says he feels that he bears a great responsibility for the country. And he has, of course, also asked himself whether it is his duty as a doctor to return. In Abu Kamal, though, he says, it immediately became clear to him that he can best help his old homeland from Germany – such as by organizing the necessary equipment, like the urgently needed computed tomography scanner for X-ray imaging. Still, he says, he is planning on traveling to Damascus twice a year to operate on patients at the university clinic and provide training to students.
Alassil will be traveling to Damascus with his family in December. He wants his wife, a woman of Turkish descent, and their three children to finally get to know his homeland. "But I couldn’t ask them to live there permanently,” he says. "They need security and the opportunity to get a good education.”
The uncertainty about how the situation will develop in Syria both politically and economically is holding many back, including Ahmad Chamsi Bacha, a 32-year-old electrical engineer. He works for BEW Berliner Energie und Wärme GmbH, which supplies hundreds of thousands of households in the German capital with district heating and operates the Klingenberg power plant in the Rummelsburg neighborhood.
Chamsi Bacha enjoys giving tours of the facility to show the machines there. Wearing a yellow safety jacket and a helmet, he strides through the hall. "Hopefully, we will have similar standards and turbines one day in Syria,” he says.
Chamsi Bacha fled to Berlin 10 years ago with his mother and siblings. He studied electrical engineering at the Technical University and, in parallel with his current job, he is currently working on a second master’s degree in automation technology. Experts like him are in high demand around the world, which is why he isn’t concerned that Germany might decide his is unwelcome. He is, he says, a "functioning Syrian” – and as such, politically desirable.
"Functioning Syrian.” The formulation provides some insight into just how deep are the wounds left behind in the Syrian community by the migration debate over the last several months. German politics has apparently not yet arrived at a conclusive answer to the question as to who should be considered a part of society – and who should not. Specialists and naturalized citizens like Chamsi Bacha, yes. Criminals and those who refuse to work, no. That seems clear enough. But what about the others? Those refugees who have difficulties finding a job? Those who are uneducated, sick or traumatized? The German government is currently working on its deportation strategy.
"I find the debate to be extremely distasteful,” says Chamsi Bacha. "It leaves its mark on all of us.” Many are already torn by the question as to where they belong, he says. Chamsi Bacha has a German passport and says he feels like a "real Berliner.” Particularly when he goes clubbing after work. He says he loves "techno, electrical systems and the energy of the city.”
But beyond that, he says, there is also this pull toward Syria and the question of what he might be able to do to help. Engineers are urgently needed in his old homeland. During a visit to Homs, where he was born, he saw with his own eyes just how much lies in rubble. The extent of the destruction is so brutal, he says, that he can hardly describe it.
Syria needs around 42.5 gigawatt-hours of electricity per day, but the country is currently not producing even close to that amount. Many Syrians have begun installing solar panels, which led Chamsi Bacha to an idea: "You need to establish the infrastructure to connect these panels to the public power grid,” he says. "That way, people could sell their green electricity to the state, and the state could coordinate redistribution. That would close a major gap.”
Last December, shortly after Assad was overthrown, he was brimming with motivation to push the project forward, he says. He wanted to start an association to unite Syrian electrical engineers from around the world. He managed to gather 37 of them, mostly in Germany. "We wanted to provide consulting, produce plans and connect companies with one another.”
One year later, though, much of that early euphoria has vanished. The news of ongoing fighting in Syria has made him less optimistic, says Chamsi Bacha. He is planning to take a trip to Syria in January to have another look at the situation, but, he says: "I cannot live without security and perspectives for the future,” he says. "Even if that gives me a bad conscience.”
But there is something else keeping him in Germany: Chamsi Bacha likes his job, and he likes his colleagues in Berlin. On the day of Assad’s overthrow, they welcomed him with a bouquet of flowers, he says. "Ahmad,” they told him: "We are happy that you can finally travel back to Syria. But please, come back as soon as you can.”
