Raed al-Saleh was born in 1983 in Jisr ash-Shughur, a town in Syria’s northwestern Idlib Governorate that would soon become the epicenter of conflict. As a child, he witnessed the seeds of civil strife sprout around him—his hometown’s narrow streets and ancient stone bridges providing uneasy passage for both soldiers and refugees. Yet even amid escalating violence, al-Saleh found his calling in service to others, volunteering alongside local neighbors to pack relief parcels and douse fires sparked by errant shell fragments. That instinct to help survive on, eventually propelling him from those makeshift efforts into the formal ranks of Syria Civil Defence—better known to the world as the White Helmets.
In mid-2013, when the plight of civilians trapped under pulverized buildings reached a fever pitch, al-Saleh left his role as a logistics coordinator at a humanitarian NGO to train under Mayday Rescue’s fledgling program. He was among the first recruits from rebel-held Idlib to undergo intensive urban-search-and-rescue training—learning to navigate unstable rubble, administer field first aid, and manage volunteer teams under fire. His aptitude quickly became apparent: colleagues recall him calmly directing drills during after-shock warnings, mapping escape routes through collapsing structures, and improvising hoist systems from salvaged materials. Within months, his peers elected him head of Syria Civil Defence’s Idlib chapter, entrusting him with the lives of dozens of volunteer rescue workers.
Under al-Saleh’s leadership, the White Helmets grew from a handful of local teams into a nationwide network of over 3,000 volunteers stationed across 114 centers. By April 2018, the organization reported having rescued more than 114,000 civilians—extricating infants buried by barrel-bomb rubble, reviving middle-aged shopkeepers trapped under mangled steel beams, and carrying the wounded through streets still echoing with drone reconnaissance. Each operation demanded split-second coordination and unflinching resolve; al-Saleh’s insistence on rigorous safety protocols and peer-reviewed training curricula helped keep White Helmets fatality rates markedly lower than those of combatant forces.
Yet the White Helmets’ heroic images soon attracted a darker spotlight. Beginning in 2016, state-sponsored outlets in Moscow and Damascus launched a targeted disinformation campaign, accusing the organization of collusion with extremist groups and fabricating rescue footage for political ends. Viral social-media posts and doctored videos aimed to discredit al-Saleh and his teams, questioning their impartiality and labelling them as Western stooges. Investigations by The Guardian and independent fact-checkers repeatedly debunked these claims, affirming that no credible evidence linked the White Helmets to armed factions. Al-Saleh responded by establishing a transparency portal for White Helmets data—logging mission reports, volunteer credentials, and funding sources—to inoculate his teams against further smears.
International recognition followed al-Saleh’s steadfast efforts. In 2017, Time magazine honoured him among its “100 Most Influential People,” citing his leadership during some of Syria’s darkest days. Later that year, the White Helmets received the Right Livelihood Award—often dubbed the “Alternative Nobel”—for “saving lives throughout Syria.” Though al-Saleh was unable to attend ceremonies abroad, his video acceptance speeches emphasized collective credit: “This is the courage of our volunteers, the resilience of our communities, and the hope of displaced families,” he said, his remarks resonating across a global audience desensitized to war’s carnage.
Even as al-Saleh’s profile grew, his focus remained on mission efficacy rather than personal acclaim. He addressed the United Nations Security Council in Geneva, laying out detailed reports of civilian casualties, infrastructure destruction, and the systematic obstruction of humanitarian access. His testimony contributed to U.N. resolutions calling for ceasefires around humanitarian corridors—though enforcement proved elusive on the ground. “We navigate between collapsing ceilings and collapsing politics,” he told delegates, urging them to translate pledges into protected zones for aid distribution.
In June 2025, after more than a decade of frontline service, the Syrian Civil Defence formally integrated into the newly formed Ministry of Emergency and Disaster Management—reflecting both al-Saleh’s advocacy for institutional support and the shifting dynamics of Syria’s transitional government. The ministry inherited the White Helmets’ infrastructure—decontamination units, mobile clinics, and rescue trucks—ensuring continuity of operations as Syria embarked on reconstruction. Al-Saleh stepped down as director on March 29, 2025, accepting appointment as the minister responsible for overseeing all emergency response, disaster relief, and civil-defense training nationwide.
His new portfolio spans earthquake preparedness, flood-management strategies for the Euphrates basin, and coordination of cross-border aid corridors. In early briefings, al-Saleh outlined a vision for a unified national system: community-run civil-defence teams trained in risk mapping, backed by regional hubs equipped with drones for rapid assessment and modular shelters for displaced families. He emphasized capacity building over dependency: “Our future resilience lies in empowered citizens, not just international aid,” he declared to a gathering of U.N. representatives and NGO partners in Amman.
Beyond his ministerial duties, al-Saleh remains committed to cultural preservation. Following the devastating earthquakes of 2023, he championed a two-year initiative to safeguard Syria’s heritage—deploying civil-defence engineers to clear debris from Aleppo’s citadel, catalogue Palmyra’s half-buried columns, and install seismic monitors at the Krak des Chevaliers. This pivot from life-saving to history-saving underscores his belief that identity and resilience are intertwined: “Protecting our past secures our people’s future,” he told The Times, rallying archaeologists and local leaders to the cause.
Al-Saleh’s trajectory—from volunteer rescuer to government minister—offers a rare lens on Syria’s protracted crisis. He embodies the shift from ad hoc humanitarianism to structured civil-defence, proving that grassroots initiatives can evolve into enduring institutions. As reconstruction funds flow—albeit unevenly—into Damascus and beyond, his challenge will be to balance political complexities with the imperative of swift, impartial disaster response. Analysts note that his reputation for integrity and operational acumen gives him unusual leverage among Syria’s fractious actors, from local councils to international donors.
In conversation, al-Saleh often returns to an image from his early missions: the astonished gaze of a child saved from under a collapsed home, his small hand gripping a rescuer’s sleeve. “No award or office can match that moment of connection,” he says. This memory fuels his drive to train new volunteers—even as ministry obligations consume his calendar. He envisions a nationwide academy where recruits study everything from advanced first aid to conflict-sensitive logistics, ensuring Syria never again faces uncoordinated chaos in its hour of need.
As the dust settles on Syria’s battlefields, Raed al-Saleh stands at a crossroads of memory and mandate. His life’s work—rescuing the wounded, preserving heritage, and building institutions—reflects a steadfast commitment to public service against overwhelming odds. In the chapters yet to be written, the minister-turned-servant continues to wield the same tools that defined his White Helmets days: courage, compassion, and the conviction that every life rescued, and every ruin restored, stitches back the fabric of a nation striving to heal.
