Check if your transaction might be flagged by international compliance systems due to residual sanctions.
Based on 139 sanctioned individuals and entities still active in Syria's financial system.
Residual sanctions affect 139 individuals and entities linked to Syria's former regime. Transactions involving these entities trigger compliance flags.
Enter a wallet address to check sanctions risk
It’s November 2025, and Syria’s crypto scene looks like it should be booming. Sanctions lifted. Banks reopening. International exchanges like Binance allowing Syrian users to sign up. So why are people still struggling to send or receive crypto? Why do accounts get frozen mid-transaction? Why do 78% of payments from Syrian wallets get flagged by foreign banks? The answer isn’t a ban-it’s something messier: residual sanctions.
That’s why Binance, Kraken, and Coinbase don’t just say “no” to Syrian users. They say “we need 14 documents, a notarized affidavit, and a live video call with someone who can prove you’ve never met any of these 139 people.” And even then, your account might still get locked. Why? Because U.S. banks still have to answer to OFAC. And OFAC doesn’t care if you’re a student in Aleppo or a shopkeeper in Homs. If your transaction touches a designated name-even indirectly-it’s a violation waiting to happen.
Why? Because the U.S. Treasury says “you can now do business with Syrian banks,” but then adds: “but only if you monitor every single transaction against 13 separate sanctions lists.” That’s not just hard. It’s nearly impossible without AI-powered screening tools that cost $200,000 a year-far beyond what any Syrian bank can afford. So instead of enabling crypto-fiat conversions, they just freeze anything that looks suspicious. A $500 transfer from a crypto wallet? Flagged. A $300 payment to a Damascus supplier? Flagged. A $100 remittance to a cousin in Turkey? Flagged.
Users report transaction delays averaging 47 hours. That’s two full days waiting for a simple transfer. And 63% of negative reviews on Binance from Syrian users cite “account freezes during onboarding.” No explanation. No appeal process. Just silence.
Imagine trying to open a crypto exchange in Syria. You can’t. Because you need a business license. But the government doesn’t have a category for “blockchain company.” You can’t hire a lawyer to advise you. Because no lawyer in Syria has ever dealt with crypto compliance. You can’t even get a bank account to hold your business funds. Because the banks won’t touch anything that might trigger a U.S. sanction violation.
This isn’t like Iran or Venezuela, where the government created a state-backed crypto system. Syria has no Petro. No digital rial. No central bank coin. It has nothing. And because of that, international platforms treat Syria like a black hole-too risky to serve, too big to ignore.
So if you’re trying to set up a crypto mining operation in Homs, you can’t legally import the equipment. You can’t even order a decent graphics card from Amazon without it being blocked at customs. Some Syrians are smuggling hardware across the Turkish border. Others are using old laptops from 2015 to mine Ethereum Classic. It’s slow. It’s inefficient. And it’s not scalable.
Peer-to-peer (P2P) trading is exploding. On local Telegram groups and Facebook pages, people trade Bitcoin for cash in coffee shops. A man in Idlib sells 0.05 BTC for 2 million Syrian pounds. A woman in Raqqa buys $300 in USDT to pay her daughter’s tuition in Jordan. These deals happen face-to-face, in person, with no digital trail. They’re risky. 22% of users in a recent informal survey reported losing money to scams. But it’s the only way left.
Some are using Lebanon or Jordan as intermediaries. They send crypto to a friend in Beirut, who withdraws cash and gives them Syrian pounds in return. It’s not legal. It’s not regulated. But it works. And it’s growing.
That’s why even when the rules technically allow it, no one moves fast. Exchanges delay onboarding. Banks reject transfers. Payment processors shut down accounts without warning. The system is designed to say “no” by default. And in a country where people are trying to rebuild their lives after 14 years of war, that default is crushing.
Chainalysis estimates Syria’s crypto market could hit $420 million a year by 2027-if clarity comes. But right now, the only thing moving faster than crypto adoption is the erosion of trust. Every frozen account. Every blocked transaction. Every unanswered support ticket chips away at the belief that this system can work for ordinary Syrians.
Until then, Syrians will keep trading in coffee shops, smuggling hardware, and hoping the next transaction doesn’t get frozen. The sanctions are gone. But the fear? That’s still here.
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