They'll face the same consequences as the first group
After more than six years confined in the squalid remnants of a collapsed caliphate, the last group of Australian women and children held at al-Roj camp in northeastern Syria have begun the long journey home. Their departure — seven women and fourteen children in a minivan bound for Damascus — closes a chapter shaped by war, ideology, and the difficult questions nations face when citizens become entangled in atrocity. Australia did not help them leave, and it will not look away when they arrive: the law, the government has made plain, waits for them at the gate.
- The al-Roj camp is being dismantled and handed to Syrian authorities, forcing a reckoning that years of political hesitation had allowed to drift.
- Three women from a repatriation just one month ago were arrested on arrival in Australia — charged with slavery offences and joining a terrorist organisation — setting a stark precedent for those now en route.
- The returning women's stories are contested and varied: some claim trafficking or coercion, others describe humanitarian intentions gone wrong, and the Australian government has signaled it will let the courts decide.
- Fourteen children — some born inside the camp, some who have never known another life — are caught between a legal system that may prosecute their mothers and a country they have never truly known.
- No flights are booked yet, the group travels under Syrian government escort, and the precise moment of arrival — and arrest — remains days away and unresolved.
After more than six years in a detention camp in northeastern Syria, the last group of Australian women and children linked to Islamic State have left al-Roj and are making their way toward Damascus, expected to fly home within days. A minivan carrying seven women and fourteen children was filmed departing the facility — a sprawling, squalid camp run by Kurdish-led forces but funded by the United States, now being handed over to Syrian government control. All twenty-one hold valid Australian citizenship, though one woman faces a temporary exclusion order that may complicate her return.
The group is composed mostly of wives and widows of IS fighters, alongside children who were born or raised inside the camp and have never experienced life beyond its fences. Their accounts of how they arrived in Syria differ sharply — some describe coercion or trafficking, others say they traveled for humanitarian purposes before being drawn into IS territory. The Australian government has offered no assistance in their return and has been unambiguous: those who committed offences will face prosecution.
This is not Australia's first repatriation from Syrian camps. Since 2019, four separate groups have returned. The most recent, just a month ago, ended with three women arrested by federal police on arrival in Melbourne and Sydney — two charged with slavery offences, one with joining a terrorist organisation and traveling to a proscribed area. All three remain in custody. Federal Minister Tanya Plibersek confirmed this week that the new arrivals should expect identical treatment.
The timeline remains uncertain. No flights have been arranged, and the group is traveling with a Syrian escort. When they do land in Australia, some will be met by police. Others may not. What is already settled is that twenty-one people — most of them children — are emerging from years of dangerous, radicalizing confinement and stepping toward a legal reckoning their country has been preparing for them.
After more than six years in a detention camp in northeastern Syria, the last group of Australian women and children linked to Islamic State are finally heading home. A minivan was filmed leaving the al-Roj camp this week, carrying seven women and fourteen children toward Damascus, where they are expected to arrange flights back to Australia within days. The journey marks the end of a long and uncertain chapter for a group of Australian citizens who have been held in the sprawling facility since the collapse of the caliphate.
The camp itself has become a symbol of the messy aftermath of the IS conflict. Run by the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces but funded by the United States, al-Roj has been described by American officials as an incubator for radicalization. It is squalid and dangerous, and it is being dismantled. The Syrian government is taking control of the facility, which has prompted a push from Washington for countries to repatriate their nationals rather than leave them in limbo indefinitely. All twenty-one Australians in this group hold valid travel documents and citizenship, though one woman is subject to a temporary exclusion order that may complicate her entry.
Who these people are matters to understanding what happens next. Most are wives or widows of Islamic State fighters—men who are now dead or imprisoned. Some of the children were born inside the camp and have never known life outside it. The women's own accounts of how they came to be in Syria vary considerably. Some say they were coerced or deceived into traveling there. Others claim they went to neighboring countries for humanitarian work and were then trafficked into IS territory. The Australian government has not assisted their return and has made clear that anyone who committed an offense will face prosecution to the fullest extent of the law.
This is not the first time Australia has brought back women and children from Syrian camps. Since 2019, four separate groups have returned home. The government conducted controlled repatriations in 2019 and 2022. Last year, a group escaped from the nearby al-Hawl camp and made their way to Beirut before returning to Australia. A month ago, four women and nine children traveled home from Damascus. Three of those women were arrested by federal police upon arrival in Melbourne and Sydney. Two of them—Kawsar Ahmad and her daughter Zeinab Ahmad—were charged with slavery offences. The third, Janai Safar, faces charges of joining a terrorist organization and traveling to a proscribed terrorist area. All three remain in custody.
Federal Minister Tanya Plibersek said this week that the new arrivals should expect the same treatment. "They'll face the same consequences as the first group," she told the ABC. Health Minister Mark Butler added that while the returnees have a legal right as Australian citizens to make their own way back to the border, anyone who has committed an offense will be met by police and potentially charged with serious crimes. The government's position is consistent: no assistance, but full accountability under law.
The practical timeline remains uncertain. No plane tickets have been booked yet, and the group is traveling with a Syrian government escort. The journey from the camp to Damascus is complete, but the journey home could take several more days. When they do arrive, some will face arrest. Others may not. What is certain is that after years in a camp described as dangerous and radicalizing, these twenty-one Australians are about to step back into a legal system that views many of them as potential threats to national security.
Citas Notables
They'll face the same consequences as the first group— Federal Minister Tanya Plibersek
If they've committed any offence, they'll be met at that border with police and charged potentially with very serious offences— Health Minister Mark Butler
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does it matter that this is the last group? What changes when they leave?
The camp itself is closing. The US is pulling back, Syria is taking control, and there's nowhere for these people to stay. The pressure to repatriate has been building for years. This group leaving means Australia can't delay anymore.
Some of these women say they were trafficked or coerced. Does that affect whether they'll be charged?
Not necessarily. The government's position is that if you committed an offense—and being in IS territory can itself be an offense—you'll be prosecuted. The stories about coercion might matter in court, but they won't stop an arrest at the border.
What about the children? Some have never left the camp.
That's the hardest part. Fourteen children, some born there, are coming back to a country they've never known. They'll be Australian citizens in a place that may feel entirely foreign. And if their mothers are arrested, the children become a separate problem.
The previous group had three women arrested. Is that what we should expect here?
Probably. The government has made clear it's not going to be lenient. Whether all seven women face charges or just some—that depends on what evidence exists and what the federal police decide to pursue.
Why hasn't the government helped them return before now?
Politics, partly. Helping them return looks like being soft on terrorism. But also practical: these camps are in a war zone, and the legal status of the detainees is murky. It's easier to let them find their own way out and then deal with them at the border.