The question today is not: "Do we return ISIS members to their home countries?" Rather, it is: Can a modern state abdicate its legal and moral responsibilities toward its citizens—especially children—under the pretext of protecting national security?
اضافة اعلان
The decision by some governments to refuse the repatriation of their nationals from camps in northeastern Syria is presented as a preventive measure. The fear is understandable; national security is no trivial matter. However, leaving women and children in a fragile legal vacuum, without clear trials or rehabilitation programs, does not eliminate the danger... it merely freezes it outside the borders.
Children, in particular, are not a security file. They did not choose their affiliation, they did not vote for their parents' ideologies, and they did not decide their place of birth. Punishing them by abandonment in a harsh, isolated environment fueled by resentment is not a policy of deterrence; it is a recipe for brewing new vulnerabilities. International law is clear: they are victims of conflict, and the state is responsible for their protection and reintegration.
As for adults, the path is neither emotional nor lenient: it is one of conditional return, individual assessment, fair trials within the home country, and rigorous monitoring and rehabilitation programs. If we trust our judicial systems, why do we fear subjecting them to them?
The irony is that leaving the problem beyond the borders does not make it disappear. A legal vacuum is a fertile ground for re-radicalization, and closed camps are not permanent solutions—they are postponed crises.
Between fear and conscience lies a third path called the Rule of Law. Security is not achieved through abandonment, and humanity does not mean leniency. This difficult balance is possible, but it requires political courage that views the protection of a child as an investment in security, not a threat to it.
