Oil Pollution Devastates North and East Syria’s Post-Conflict Recovery

ZALIN (QAMISHLI), North and East Syria — Every inhaled breath in villages lining the Gir Zero oil fields carries a hidden price. “The air is totally unbreathable here,” says Ali Thelaj, a community nurse who has treated dozens of cancer patients. “We have about 50 cases of cancer per 500 inhabitants. We all carry a dormant tumor, waiting to strike.” His grim assessment captures the daily reality for families who fled ISIS only to see their ancestral lands transformed into a toxic wasteland. 

Since the defeat of the Islamic State in 2017, the Democratic Autonomous Administration of the Region of North and East Syria (DAARNES) and the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) have nominally controlled North and East Syria’s oil reserves. Yet years of indiscriminate bombings—first by Daramsuq (Damascus), then by competing militias, and more recently by Turkish warplanes—have turned aging refineries into open wounds on the arid landscape. Neighborhoods once dotted with olive groves are now ringed by rusting pipes and open pits of crude oil. 

“The river of death,” locals call the blackened waterway that snakes from the Gir Zero wells into surrounding fields. Laced with petrochemical effluent, the stream overflows during winter rains, inundating crops and contaminating livestock. Farmers recount how herds that drink from it sicken and die; their lands have lain fallow ever since. 

Economic lifelines severed, many residents wonder how North and East Syria can forge a future. Oil accounted for nearly all regional revenue—little else can grow in this semi-desert terrain. During the civil war, Former President Bashar al-Assad, Kurdish forces, ISIS and Turkey each vied for control of oil fields to fund their operations. Extraction continued without environmental safeguards, and refineries became favored targets in aerial campaigns. When hostilities subsided, engineers deemed many installations beyond repair; toxic runoff was left unchecked. 

Compounding the crisis, international sanctions against Syria have choked off funds for maintenance or modernization. Diesel generators hum day and night, further fouling the air. Grassroots environmental programs—reforestation drives, community water management and limited cleanup efforts—have so far proven insufficient to counteract decades of degradation. 

In December 2023, the Oudah refinery outside Zalin (Qamishli) endured as many as six Turkish strikes in a single month. On January 15, 2024, a missile ruptured a storage tank, releasing roughly 35,000 barrels of crude into adjacent farmland. Satellite imagery later revealed dead zones spanning hundreds of hectares where nothing will grow for years. Volunteers with Kongra Star (Kurdish for Star Congress), the DAARNES women’s organization, erected a small greenhouse on the spill site; they nurture seedlings in hopes that with extensive restoration the land may one day return to productivity. Yet such local efforts cannot substitute for large-scale remediation. 

Water stress—another legacy of war and displacement—adds urgency to North and East’s ecological emergency. Neighboring Turkey controls headwaters feeding the Khabur rivers; blocked channels and parched reservoirs force communities into strict rationing. Wells once used to irrigate orchards now supply drinking water barely fit for consumption, as filtration systems fell into disrepair during years of conflict and sanctions. 

Despite these obstacles, North and East’s democratic confederalism movement has placed ecology at the heart of its political project. Local councils promote collective resource management, renewable energy pilots, and biodegradable waste initiatives. But without external support—technical expertise, funding and access to cleaner technology—many programs stall on the drawing board. 

Public health data underscore the stakes. In some villages, cancer rates approach one in ten; dermatological conditions, respiratory illnesses and birth defects have all surged. Doctors like Thelaj report that patients are often diagnosed with advanced tumors, leaving little hope even when treatment is available. “We borrowed syringes and gloves from neighboring clinics,” he says. “But there is no local capacity for oncology care.” 

International humanitarian agencies have begun to take notice. Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) and UNICEF have dispatched mobile clinics to monitor pollution-related diseases and deliver emergency water purification systems. Yet aid corridors remain vulnerable to intermittent fighting and bureaucratic red tape. 

Looking ahead, environmental advocates warn that neglecting North and East Syria’s oil-soaked scars imperils both human life and any prospect of durable peace. “This is not just an ecological issue,” says Gulistan Issa of Un Ponte Per, an Italian NGO partnering with local councils. “It’s a question of justice — the people of North-East Syria cannot rebuild society on poisoned ground”. 

As North and East Syria’s communities mark Sayfo Remembrance Day on June 15 and honor victims of past genocides, they also confront a new threat — an invisible yet deadly legacy, born of conflict and sustained by neglect. Their call is simple: recognition of the environmental catastrophe and a coordinated international response to heal both land and people. Without it, the fragile gains of post-conflict recovery risk being buried beneath the very oil that once promised prosperity.