Gabriel G Tabarani
In the span of a single year, Syria has moved from the stagnant grip of a decades-long dictatorship to a moment of rare fluidity—an opening that could reshape not only its own political landscape but the strategic geometry of the Middle East. Yet this is also a moment at risk of slipping away. The United States, having ushered Syrian President Ahmad al-Sharaa into the Oval Office and suspended portions of its own sanctions regime, now stands before a choice: whether to merely enjoy the photo-ops of diplomatic boldness, or to meaningfully invest in the slow, difficult work of stabilizing a shattered country.
The Trump administration’s Syria policy has been a blend of audacity and improvisation. Trump’s embrace of al-Sharaa, a former jihadist whose political rise would have once been unthinkable in Washington, underscores the degree to which the regional map has been redrawn. The administration’s instinct—that bringing Syria back into the international fold is necessary for regional stability—is not wrong. But a strategy built on grand gestures without a long-term plan risks repeating the very cycles that allowed Syria’s war to metastasize in the first place.
What is unfolding on the ground today is extraordinary. The new Syrian government is a patchwork coalition comprising former Islamist fighters, civil society activists shaped by the 2011 uprising, young technocrats returning from years of exile, and remnants of the old bureaucracy who were deliberately retained to avoid the catastrophic de-Baathification mistakes seen in Iraq. The result is a political ecosystem that is fragile but not doomed—still searching for equilibrium after the collapse of an authoritarian order that had defined Syria’s modern existence.
Even without setting foot in Damascus, accounts from recent visitors and aid workers reveal a striking contrast that defines Syria today. In the capital, daily life appears to have snapped back into motion—cafés bustling, shops lit late into the night, and a sense of urban normalcy slowly re-emerging. Yet just outside this pocket of activity, in areas such as Eastern Ghouta, the devastation of the war remains unmistakable. Entire neighborhoods still stand as hollowed-out structures, reminders of years of bombardment. Families returning after a decade in displacement describe walking through streets scarred by shelling, their children carrying donated schoolbags as they navigate roads still bearing the marks of barrel bombs. With reconstruction needs estimated at more than $200 billion and most Syrians (90%) living below the poverty line, the scale of the challenge is staggering. And yet, amid all this ruin, those who return speak of a powerful emotional pull—of rediscovering home, and, as one Syrian put it, “learning to know one another again.”
This fragile stability should not be mistaken for a settled political order. The underlying questions that will shape Syria’s future remain unanswered. How will minorities—the Druze, Kurds, Christians, and Alawites—be integrated into a post-Assad political structure? Can a decentralized model accommodate Syria’s complex mosaic without enabling fragmentation? What will become of the tens of thousands of ISIS detainees and family members still held in camps? And how will the new government manage the competing ambitions of Turkey, Israel, Iran, and Russia, each eager to shape Syria’s trajectory?
These questions underscore a basic truth: reconstruction without governance is a recipe for relapse. While Trump’s call for large-scale economic investment resonates in the region, reconstruction must be accompanied by political inclusion, security-sector reform, and a credible framework for minority protections. The United States has leverage—in sanctions relief, diplomatic engagement, and the promise of investment—but it has yet to articulate a coherent plan for using it.
Congress, for its part, remains reluctant to fully lift sanctions, wary of legitimizing a government led by a man whose résumé includes stints with al-Qaida, ISIS, and later Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS). But in Syria’s current context, absolutism becomes self-defeating. Keeping sanctions in place indefinitely will not punish Assad; he is gone. Instead, it will suffocate the very population Washington claims to support and cede the reconstruction arena to actors whose interests run counter to long-term stability.
Perhaps the thorniest strategic question concerns Syria’s future relationship with Israel. Syrian–Israeli relations have been frozen since the disengagement agreement of 1974, and Israel retains control of the Golan Heights. Yet in a remarkable departure from decades of hostility, the new government in Damascus has engaged in several rounds of indirect discussions with Israel, encouraged by Washington. This opening is not the stuff of peace-treaty headlines; the Israelis remain deeply uncertain about al-Sharaa, and ongoing Israeli airstrikes on Iranian-linked assets continue unabated. But incremental confidence-building measures—border coordination, deconfliction mechanisms, and economic arrangements—could lay the foundation for something more durable.
Meanwhile, the decision of whether Syria should join the Global Coalition to Defeat ISIS carries symbolic and practical weight. For al-Sharaa, whose background raises suspicions in Western capitals, membership would serve as a declaration of intent: that the new Syria rejects jihadist ideology and seeks integration into international counterterrorism structures. Yet public hesitation within Syria remains strong, shaped by memories of U.S.-led airstrikes that devastated cities like Raqqa. Washington must understand this ambivalence and engage with it rather than dismiss it.
None of these dynamics will stabilize without sustained U.S. involvement. Reopening the U.S. embassy in Damascus—an idea floated by regional experts—would give Washington a clearer view of the country’s evolving security landscape and allow diplomats to shape events in real time. The U.N., too, needs greater support to coordinate returns, oversee demining, and ensure that reconstruction aid reaches all communities rather than reinforcing old patronage networks.
The alternative—disengagement masked as bold diplomacy—would squander the opening that now exists. Syria stands at a crossroads, suspended between possibility and peril. The country is no longer in the free fall of civil war, but neither is it firmly on a path to stability. It is, as one expert described, a “plastic moment”—a period of unusual malleability in a region that rarely affords such opportunities.
The United States helped create this moment. Whether it becomes a turning point or another tragic footnote will depend on whether Washington is willing to match symbolic gestures with the less glamorous but essential work of patient state-building. History suggests that in the Middle East, bold gambles without follow-through rarely end well. Syria’s future, and America’s credibility, now hinge on proving that this time can be different.
This article was originally published in Arabic on the Asswak Al-Arab website
