“To save one life is to save all of humanity.”
Motto of the White Helmets
They were the first to arrive when there was bombing, responding to hundreds of air strikes a day, digging through rubble and unstable buildings to find survivors. They rejoiced with every person they brought out alive. “Better to rescue a soul than take one” was a belief they shared.
In the chaos and devastation of Syria’s civil war, bands of courageous rescuers began to appear in 2013. The uprising against the Assad regime that began in 2011, the year of the Arab spring, precipitated waves of violent repression, including aerial bombardments of homes, schools, and hospitals, particularly in opposition strongholds of northwest Syria. With no emergency services, ordinary citizens showed up to salvage lives trapped in the ruins of demolished structures.
Groups of local rescuers wearing white helmets became part of an organized force in 2014. Supported by international partners, they were officially designated ‘Syrian Civil Defence,’ with the mission of providing neutral, unarmed humanitarian aid in response to disasters. The Mayday Rescue Foundation, founded by former British Army officer James Le Mesurier, helped to structure the organization and provide formal training in emergency life-saving skills. The first training took place that year in Turkey, through Turkish NGO, AKUT. Engineers, bakers, tailors, and students were among the initial trainees.
Their words cast new light on the nature of altruism and the meaning of brotherhood.
By 2016, these extraordinarily brave citizens had saved more than 58,000 lives. A documentary produced that year – “The White Helmets’ – won an Oscar award the following year, exposing the spirit of these heroic souls to the world.* Their words cast new light on the nature of altruism and the meaning of brotherhood. Reflecting on people they saved, one said: “Whoever they are, I consider them all to be my family.” On rescuing his friend’s son, another said: “What’s the difference between my son and someone else’s?”
By 2024, the volunteer force had expanded to include 3,300 members, with several hundred women. Their occupations ranged from teaching to farming and shopkeeping. Some volunteered, themselves, after being rescued by the White Helmets. Mustafa Bakkar had raised chickens and worked in his family’s butcher shop before the war. In a 2025 interview with NPR [National Public Radio, US], he recalled his first encounter with the group.
“I had never heard of the White Helmets,” he said. “They didn’t even have ambulances back then. They drove these little microvans with first aid kits in the back.” When Bakkar found himself bleeding and being ferried to safety in one of those vans, he made a vow to join them if he survived. Wondering what kind of people would save a person lying on the ground, dying, he thought “How beautiful it would be to provide such a service.” Ten years later, he was an operations chief in Damascus.
With as many as 200 bombings a day, some of which demolished entire neighbourhoods, the White Helmets routinely risked dying to salvage other lives. They also suffered persecution from the Assad regime for rescuing regime opponents, though affirming that their task was protecting civilians from the ravages of war, regardless of political affiliation or religious background. “It’s our duty to save every human being, no matter which side they’re on,” one said.
Despite extreme dangers, such as “double tap” airstrikes that targeted rescue teams responding to the initial strike, they persisted. As of 2018, they had saved over 114,000 lives, while losing over 200 of their own. They never took up arms in retribution for the immense suffering caused by Assad’s forces. And they never allowed themselves to become paralyzed by despair. Though the documentary had laid bare Syria’s devastation, world powers were silent. Their resilience was based on the belief that “Tomorrow will be better,” as told by Mahamad Farah. “We are always optimistic that what’s to come will be better. Justice will prevail one day.”
Since December 2024, with the overthrow of the Assad regime, the role of the White Helmets has evolved from first response to rebuilding, often in areas where they had rescued communities after bombing raids. They have been removing rubble, opening roads, clearing landmines, and bringing dead bodies to identification centres. They are also providing psychological support where needed after decades of trauma. With Israeli air and artillery strikes, plus renewed sectarian violence, their work as first responders continues.
This work is now being done on a much larger scale. In April this year, Raed al-Saleh, the White Helmets’ director for ten years, was appointed to the new government as Minister of Environment and Emergency Response. Accepting his new role, he remarked that serving with the White Helmets had been one of the greatest honours of his life.
“Together, we’ve saved lives, lifted rubble, and stood by our people in their darkest hours,” he wrote in a letter sent to supporters around the world. “We’ve lost dear friends along the way, but their sacrifice lit the path forward. Every success we’ve achieved has been built on our team’s dedication, courage, and belief in our shared values.”
Referring to his acceptance of a government role, he continued: “This decision was not made lightly. It reflects a moment of immense change in Syria, and the hope that the values of dignity, humanity, and service that we’ve fought for over the last decade may now be carried forward by public institutions that serve and protect all Syrians.”
“This transition is only possible because of the extraordinary courage and sacrifices of the men and women who wore the white helmet… and showed the world what’s possible when neighbours come together to protect one another.”
The White Helmets lived the meaning of sacrifice—leaving their own families to save others under fire. “It’s hard to be away from your family,” one volunteer said, “but life requires sacrifice.” In a global culture that is shaped by the desire for personal comfort and that exhibits indifference to the suffering of others, their courage stands as a quiet challenge.
Their legacy is one of heroism and also of human possibility: a reminder that ordinary people, united by purpose, can defy despair and restore hope.
They didn’t wait for permission. They acted—driven by conscience, by love, and by the belief that every life matters. Their legacy is one of heroism and also of human possibility: a reminder that ordinary people, united by purpose, can defy despair and restore hope. Their example calls on humanity to do more than bear witness. It is a call to stand up, to serve, and to believe—as they did—that saving one life can help save humanity.
In recognition of their extraordinary courage and humanitarian service, the White Helmets have been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize.
* “The White Helmets” can be viewed on Netflix.
August 2025