{"id":28771,"date":"2026-06-03T08:00:42","date_gmt":"2026-06-03T06:00:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/?p=28771"},"modified":"2026-06-01T15:26:48","modified_gmt":"2026-06-01T13:26:48","slug":"editorial-53-on-the-80th-anniversary-of-the-polish-supreme-national-tribunal-think-about-transitional-justice-in-syria","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/de\/editorial-53-on-the-80th-anniversary-of-the-polish-supreme-national-tribunal-think-about-transitional-justice-in-syria\/","title":{"rendered":"Editorial #53: On the 80th Anniversary of the Polish Supreme National Tribunal, Think about Transitional Justice in Syria"},"content":{"rendered":"

There is no shortage of examples in which concrete instances of Polish history travel across borders to inspire political events elsewhere and elsewhen. Boris Nemtsov, who was until his murder<\/a> in 2015 Putin\u2019s maybe fiercest opponent, named the Russian opposition movement he founded<\/a> in 2008 \u201cSolidarnost\u201d, for example \u2013 reference to<\/a> the trade union<\/a> that in the 1980s decidedly contributed to the downfall of the Polish People\u2019s Republic noncoincidental. Or consider the many lives of Polish revolutionary and intellectual Joachim Lelewel\u2019s<\/a> catchphrase \u201cZa nasz\u0105 i wasz\u0105 wolno\u015b\u0107\u201d [For our freedom and yours], used originally in the context of the 1830 November Uprising against imperial Russian rule, and since quoted<\/a>, for instance, in protests against the 1968 Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia. Most recently, \u201cfor our freedom and yours\u201d has been invoked at pro-Ukrainian protest marches to underline<\/a> the European-wide importance of Ukraine\u2019s resistance against the ongoing Russian invasion. (Interestingly, in Lelewel\u2019s original formulation, the \u201cyours\u201d was \u2013 rather than at other Europeans \u2013 directed<\/a> at Russians, whom he hoped to entice into standing up against their own ruling classes.)<\/p>\n

For our Justice<\/strong><\/p>\n

Poland\u2019s Supreme National Tribunal, by contrast, does not make the list. Though meant to shape historical narratives, the tribunal itself seems comparatively forgotten<\/a>. Operational between 1946 and 1948, the tribunal<\/a> (called Najwy\u017cszy Trybuna\u0142 Narodowy in Polish) presided over seven cases that comprised a total of 49 defendants. Its didactic purpose<\/a>, complementing the punitive objective of prosecuting German war criminals, was to alert the world public to the Second World War plight of the Polish nation(als) after the Polish delegation at the International Military Tribunal felt marginalised<\/a>; sitting in judgment at Nuremberg were not \u201cthe Allies\u201d but rather their \u201cgreat power\u201d members only, nota bene. From today\u2019s perspective, this mission against marginalisation has been crowned by only limited success. The Polish Supreme National Tribunal was \u201cperipheralized<\/a>\u201d itself in international historiography and scholarship, likely because of then-operating Cold War dynamics and still-persisting language barriers. Its judgements are available in Polish only<\/a>, even today.<\/p>\n

In contrast, the marginalisation is certainly not due to a lack of Polish contributions to international law, which very recent scholarship<\/a> has collected and analysed effectively and in English. Nor can the marginalisation be traced to an absence of high-profile defendants or public interest: Defendants tried and sentenced by the Tribunal included<\/a> such high-ranking Nazis as Rudolph H\u00f6\u00df, commander of Auschwitz. The trials themselves were immensely popular<\/a> among the local public, who came en masse to attend the proceedings in the public gallery. A total of 15,000 spectators moreover bore witness<\/a> to the hanging of Arthur Greiser \u2013 Warthegau Gauleiter and another one of the 49 individual defendants tried and sentenced by the Tribunal \u2013 which constituted the last public execution<\/a> on Polish territory.<\/p>\n

The Supreme National Tribunal is an interesting and important fact of history; to study and remember it is valuable in itself. A part of this endeavour, however, must be the appreciation of the Tribunal\u2019s complex legacy (on which more below), and not just for reasons of historical accuracy. For it is this very complexity that makes the Tribunal such a pertinent case study in transitional justice with insights for contemporary attempts of the same nature.<\/p>\n

And Yours <\/strong><\/p>\n

Almost 80 years after the first trial of the Polish Supreme National Tribunal began in June 1946, the trial against Atef Najib \u2013 integral part of not only Bashar al-Assad\u2019s former regime but also his family \u2013 opened<\/a> in April 2026 in Damascus. The question of justice for the victims and survivors of the Assad regime\u2019s, as well as other violent actors\u2019 grave crimes committed in Syria in recent decades has been occupying a central place in Syrians\u2019 minds from long before Assad\u2019s fall in December 2024. This question is not now and was not then, not even before the fall of Assad, merely theoretical: In cooperation with international partners, Syrian civil society has worked relentlessly and successfully to bring perpetrators to justice. In Germany alone, multiple<\/a> regime<\/a> collaborators<\/a> have been convicted for grave crimes and sentenced to (life-)long imprisonment (see also this interactive map<\/a> that documents more than 350 Syria-related cases across the world). And these efforts are ongoing, the newest trial against a Syrian former local militia leader having opened<\/a> at Berlin\u2019s Kammergericht on 27 March only. Anyone interested can come sit in the public gallery, which is now considerably eased by the fact that the Kammergericht has started publishing a weekly schedule<\/a> online, unlike in the past Moafak D. case<\/a>. Language barriers, however, persist with translations of the German court proceedings into Arabic made available to parties participating in the proceedings only, excluding spectators. Nevertheless, these universal jurisdiction trials constitute important pieces of a wider puzzle, no doubt. Meanwhile another, arguably more integral part \u2013 Syrian justice for Syrians \u2013 is concretising rapidly.<\/p>\n

Syria commences its transitional justice journey at a time when the land and its people are still scarred by the devastating war, while the struggle for political power and stability is not yet fully settled. Bashar al-Assad remains sequestered<\/a> in Moscow\u2019s notorious Rublyovka district, maybe feeding his Candy Crush addiction<\/a> and reportedly refreshing on ophthalmology<\/a>. Al-Scharaa is nurturing<\/a> his image as serious statesman. Despite his changed<\/a> name and attire, many Syrians remain cautious<\/a> about the relative stability under their new leader, meant to be but looking less and less \u201cinterim<\/a>\u201d. And for good reason, re the coastal governorates Latakia and Tartous<\/a> as well as Sweida<\/a>, a governate in Syria\u2019s south, in which violent clashes last spring and summer led to hundreds of civilians being murdered and many more displaced, accountability outstanding. Other concerns also related to recent transitional justice efforts are rising<\/a>, too, after the publication of the taped confession<\/a> of Amjad Youssef, who is alleged to have played a crucial role in the Tadamon massacre<\/a> in which 288 civilians are believed to have been shot dead. The extrajudicial format of Youssef\u2019s confession raises due process concerns<\/a>. The narrative of individual responsibility \u2013 glossing over this and similar atrocities\u2019 systematic nature<\/a> \u2013 that Youssef presents in the video moreover provokes the question<\/a> of cui bono. Are the current powerholders setting themselves up for being let off the hook? Impossible to ignore, it\u2019s this question that comes to mind when watching Syria\u2019s current minister of interior \u2013 himself until recently targeted<\/a> by sanctions against ISIL and al-Qaida members \u2013 ask<\/a> Youssef whether he doesn\u2019t have a heart on YouTube.<\/p>\n

Think now with Poland 1946 about Syria 2026. The conditions, though the context is different, granted, were in another sense strikingly similar: Poland\u2019s 1946 transitional justice efforts, too, commenced<\/a> amidst unspeakable destruction of land and people and a political power struggle in full swing. Here, the history of the Polish Supreme National Tribunal gives reason for hope: Even under these difficult conditions, the Tribunal succeeded in meting out justice that, though not perfect, is regarded<\/a> as fair.<\/p>\n

At the same time, Poland\u2019s experience can also be held up as a cautionary tale \u2013 containing lessons to be learnt not so much for Syrians but for international observers and supporters of transitional justice. Without fulfilling its mandate, and in the midst of further investigations, the Tribunal ceased operations<\/a> in 1948. Following this, the repressive Polish state turned<\/a> against some of the court\u2019s key figures, notably Greiser attorney Antoni Chmurski, who was forced to give up practicing law, and prosecutor Mieczys\u0142aw Siewierski, who fared worse and was sentenced to five years in prison.<\/p>\n

Late historian Alexander Prusin convincingly argues<\/a> that the Supreme National Tribunal\u2019s ability to operate surprisingly freely and fairly until its disbandment was due to the new Polish government\u2019s fraught political position in 1946. Seeking legitimacy, the government cared greatly about its international reputation; a successful performance of the Tribunal was calculated to reflect well on the new regime. And an international audience ready to be impressed obliged: An American delegation including Brigadier General Telford Taylor \u2013 lead prosecutor in the twelve subsequent trials<\/a> following the main Nuremberg trial of the International Military Tribunal \u2013 sat in the Polish Tribunal\u2019s proceedings against, among others, Ludwig Fischer, governor of the Warsaw district under Hans Frank. As the new government\u2019s power consolidated, however, and its appetite for prosecuting Polish oppositionists grew bigger than its desire to bring German war criminals to justice, calculations changed. The Tribunal was disbanded.<\/p>\n

What can international observers of transitional justice in Syria learn from this history? For one, the importance of looking at what the government is doing should not be underestimated \u2013 not only now that things are beginning to take shape but throughout the entire duration of the transitional justice process. Beyond mere observation, and\/or in the event that there surfaces reason to suspect that things may be starting to go awry, international partners can support Syrian actors pushing for fair and comprehensive justice. Conveniently, these have just published a list of thoughtful recommendations<\/a> addressing multiple actors, including international ones. It is also important, in this context, to remember that justice after the Second World War was a collective effort<\/a>. While it is true that many Syrians committed crimes against their fellow nationals, perpetrators of grave crimes in Syria hold all kinds of nationalities. Some European alleged perpetrators and\/or their family members have until recently been stuck<\/a> in al-Hol camp in northeastern Syria \u2013 their governments unwilling<\/a> to take them in, let alone investigate. After, at the beginning of this year, Syrian government forces seized the camp from the control of the Syrian Democratic Forces, a Kurdish-led militia, the camp was evacuated in February. Foreign individuals with ties to the Islamic State dispersed<\/a> to locations unknown. It would have been easier to take responsibility for their nationals when these individuals\u2019 whereabouts were known, of course, but the increased difficulty that comes with first having to locate their citizens does not absolve European governments from stepping up.<\/p>\n

And Syrians? Many civil society organisations have been preparing for this moment for decades. They are ready, committed, organised, and professional. They know. The question, however, is whether they will be heard by the people in power currently orchestrating the transitional justice process. The latter would be well-advised to listen. Thinking back to Poland 1946, there is one point in particular \u2013 that Syrian civil society has<\/a> already and anyways made \u2013 that underscores a cautionary lesson with potential pertinence to the Syrian case: The justice meted out by the Polish Supreme National Tribunal was selective<\/a>. Its mandate was limited to prosecuting German war criminals, bracketing, notably, Russian perpetrators and Polish Nazi collaborators. In theory, the Tribunal could have prosecuted those responsible for the \u201cfascistization of the country<\/a>,\u201d though this did not happen in practice. Especially the guilt of implicated Poles remains a topic of unclosed and difficult conversation<\/a>, eighty years on. Not all history should be repeated.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

There is no shortage of examples in which concrete instances of Polish history travel across borders to inspire political events elsewhere and elsewhen. Boris Nemtsov, who was until his murder in 2015 Putin\u2019s maybe fiercest opponent, named the Russian opposition movement he founded in 2008 \u201cSolidarnost\u201d, for example \u2013 reference to the trade union that […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":17,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[6639],"tags":[3836],"authors":[7447],"article-categories":[3577],"doi":[],"class_list":["post-28771","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-transitional-justice","authors-alicja-polakiewicz","article-categories-our-own-news"],"acf":{"subline":""},"meta_box":{"doi":"10.17176\/20260520-172925-0"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28771","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/17"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=28771"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28771\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":28773,"href":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28771\/revisions\/28773"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=28771"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=28771"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=28771"},{"taxonomy":"authors","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/authors?post=28771"},{"taxonomy":"article-categories","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/article-categories?post=28771"},{"taxonomy":"doi","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/voelkerrechtsblog.org\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/doi?post=28771"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}