'I lost everything to Captagon': Inside post-Assad Syria’s first rehab clinic offering survivors a way out of drug addiction

The sun rises softly over the olive groves of Afrin, in northern Syria near the Turkish border. Atop a quiet hill stands a pristine villa with Roman columns and tiled roofs. It resembles a countryside mansion more than a medical institution — yet it is Syria’s first rehabilitation clinic dedicated to treating drug addiction.

The Hope Center for Rehabilitation opened in January 2025, funded by France and Qatar, and is operated by Syrian NGOs Shafaq and Mars. Since its opening, the centre has been operating at full capacity.

“We haven’t had a single empty bed,” says director Mohanad Abu Elzeen.

At 9:15 am, following morning exercise, a group therapy session is underway. Beneath a white canopy, Dr Mahmoud, dressed in a green coat, addresses ten young men.

“Society tends to see drug users as deviants,” he says. “But they’re victims. Nobody chooses to fall. What matters is having the strength to stand back up. Sometimes, all it takes is a hand held out.”

Among the patients is Abdulrahmane, a 22-year-old from Homs. Bearded and solemn, he fingers a prayer bead necklace as he listens.

He began working in upholstery as a child and joined the Free Syrian Army at 16. To stay awake and focused during long guard shifts, he started using Captagon — like many others around him.

“I used to take two or three pills a day,” he says. “They kept me alert. But when I stopped, I felt useless. I had no will to hold my rifle or go to my post.”

After 21 days of detox at the clinic, Abdulrahmane is preparing to return home.

The chemical escape

Captagon, originally developed in Germany in the 1960s to treat narcolepsy and depression, contains fenethylline, a powerful stimulant that floods the brain with dopamine and adrenaline. It suppresses hunger, thirst, and fatigue, producing a euphoric sense of invincibility.

Though banned globally in the 1980s due to its harmful side effects — anxiety, aggression, depression, and extreme dependency — illicit versions have proliferated, particularly in the Middle East.

During the Syrian war, Captagon production exploded under regime control. Maher al-Assad, the president’s brother and head of an elite military unit, oversaw a vast drug empire worth billions.

Captagon exports helped fund the Syrian government’s war machine, turning the country into what some now call a 'narco-state.' At one point, Syria was responsible for 80% of the world’s Captagon supply.

That changed with the fall of the regime in late 2024, when the Islamist coalition HTS seized power and began dismantling production sites. Millions of pills were uncovered, hidden in leather spools, electric meters, and even tahini cans.

After 14 years of war, addiction has seeped into every layer of society.

“Before the war, drug use was extremely rare in Syria,” says Mohanad. “Now, it’s everywhere — across all social classes, ages, and regions. The needs assessment study that we lead in the region showed that 20% of people aged 18 to 45 are dependent on at least one substance.”

Combatants on both sides, along with over a million displaced people, are particularly affected. Captagon remains the most commonly used drug, but its scarcity has led many to switch to alternatives like methamphetamine and Tramadol.

That was the case for Mustafa, a 30-year-old former shoe manufacturer in Istanbul. Fleeing the war, he had built a stable business with 15 employees. But when marital tensions arose, he turned to Captagon.

“At first it was half a pill a day, then one, then two, then ten,” he recalls. “I lost 25 kilos in six months. I couldn’t feel hunger or fatigue.”

When Captagon supplies dried up after the fall of the Assad regime, Mustafa began using crystal meth, a far more potent — and expensive — drug. He lost control, closed his business, and began dealing to fund his addiction. After being physically affected by his downfall, he turned up at his brother’s, who brought him to the centre.

He says, “I lost everything to Captagon: my company, my wife, my health.”

Many patients began using drugs while working in Turkey, under exploitative conditions. Abdu, 25, is back for a follow-up visit after completing treatment. He spent seven years in a textile factory across the border, working night shifts seven days a week.

“When I started slowing down, my boss gave me Captagon to stay awake. I’d go three days without sleep,” he says. “Then at the end of the week, he deducted the cost of the pills from my wages.”

Eventually, Abdu returned to Syria and entered the rehab programme.

“We were many Syrians caught in that trap,” he shares.

Pain and addiction: A deadly combination

The drug doesn’t just suppress fatigue — it also alleviates pain.

Ahmed, a 31-year-old from Eastern Ghouta, suffered a near-fatal injury during a 2017 tank bombing.

A former furniture maker turned fighter, he lost three friends that day and was in a coma for three months. To manage the pain from his leg injury, he was prescribed Tramadol — and became addicted.

Since January, the Hope Center has treated 1,492 patients, including 93 in full residential care. Up to 12 at a time stay for three-week detox programmes, supported by doctors, psychologists, and nurses. Days are structured around therapy, exercise, nutrition classes, and group activities.

“The next step is to open a second centre in the south, and to develop reintegration programmes,” says Mohanad. He also wants to offer treatment in lieu of prison sentences for minor drug offences, pending approval from Damascus authorities.

“We’re still new, but the need is enormous, and people are responding,” Mohanad shares. 

At 9 pm, the day’s programme is over, but staff and residents linger in the courtyard. Someone plays music — a dabke tune — and within seconds, the men form a circle, clasp hands, and dance to the traditional Levantine rhythm.

That night, under the stars above Afrin, they inch a little closer to joy — without chemical shortcuts.

Sami Zaïbi is a Swiss journalist based in Cairo 

Follow him on Instagram: @harissalover