What is Wrong with Syria’s Current Leadership? And, Has the Syrian Revolution Succeeded?

Fareed Fakhoury

15 October 2025

Abstract

Should Syria bear the burden of the terrorist background and jihadist history of the current leadership, which seized power under the pretext of a fait accompli and not through genuine popular representation?

This article argues that Syria’s post-Assad order has changed people, not principles. The new leadership offers an ‘order’ designed as a security arrangement rather than a binding social contract, and a rent-based economy rather than a market-based one. Politically, representation is engineered through indirect electoral colleges and executive appointments to produce a compliant majority without genuine competition. Legally, dual authority is entrenched: security bodies outrank the courts and due process remains conditional. Economically, the North-West ‘laboratory’ of controlled access, monopolies, and concessions is being scaled up, entrenching an oligarchy that rewards proximity rather than competence. Socially and religiously, pluralism is managed under tutelage, by constraining civic space and reshaping the religious field, in ways that erode horizontal trust among citizens and vertical trust in institutions. It concludes that the test of the revolution’s success is not removing a person but changing the rules of the game. Unless power is constrained by law and meaningful participation is protected, Syria’s ‘transition’ will remain a careful repackaging of authoritarian logic rather than a path to accountable governance.

1. Introduction

The Syrian landscape is still going through big changes, many of them completely unexpected. Who would have thought we would see one of the most-wanted terror suspects in New York?[1] I would almost say that even the strongest supporters of Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), even the most hopeful among them, would not have dreamed of this ‘breakthrough’, maybe even ‘consolidation’, or tamkīn as they like to call it.

At the same time, the picture is strangely unclear. What is happening in today’s international politics? Is there no constant we can rely on to analyse and understand reality? Is there any starting point or principle that could help? Maybe not. What is hidden, understandings and arrangements, is much more than what is available to the public, or even to researchers.

But away from the noise of the media, if we set aside the history of the ‘former’ terrorist and his ‘terrorist’ organisation, and look objectively at Syria’s present and future, what can we see? What is wrong with Syria’s current leadership? And where will keeping the status quo take us as Syrians?

2. Context

Historically, Syria as a land was the heart of Bilād al-Shām or ‘Levant’, a region stretching from Mosul in the east to the Mediterranean in the west, and from the Taurus Mountains in the north to Sinai in the south. Syria as a modern state with its current, or near-current, borders has a relatively recent history. We can take the start of the French Mandate, in 1920, as a first reference point. After that, Syria went through several shifts and re-formings: small states created by the Mandate authorities, then reunification under one flag, then the separation of Lebanon as an independent state, and later the separation of İskenderun and its annexation by Turkey, until Syria reached its present shape by the end of the Second World War.

Politically, without going into detail, the modern path begins with the 1930 constitution and the adoption of the three-star flag in 1932, then legal independence in 1945, followed by actual independence with the French withdrawal in 1946. This was followed by the 1949 coups, then a return to parliamentary life from 1954 to 1958, then union with Egypt from 1958 to 1961, then secession and a short parliamentary phase from 1961 to 1963. The formal system of government was a parliamentary republic, with constitutional developments up to the 1950 constitution, which was suspended after the March 1963 coup. With the Ba‘ath coup and its control of the Syrian army, the Syrian Republic entered a new phase of military rule, and later one-man rule in 1970 with Hafez al-Assad’s coup. Civil activism and political social life were gradually shut down after 1970, as the public sphere was brought under control by placing unions under strict laws, and Hafez al-Assad finally cemented his rule with the Hama massacre in 1982. Power was later handed to Bashar al-Assad in 2000, who ruled Syria relatively quietly until 2011, when the popular uprising against his rule began and turned into a multi-layered war, and then he left the country in December 2024.

3. The Syrian Revolution

Political science literature, such as Jack A. Goldstone, offers a working definition of revolution as a collective effort to transform political institutions and the bases of legitimacy and authority, driven by mass mobilisation and taking non-institutional forms of contention such as protests, strikes, and sometimes violence.[2]

The Dictionary of Contemporary Arabic defines the political sense of ‘revolution’ as: ‘a violent surge by the masses to change political and social conditions in a fundamental way’. The Oxford Dictionary defines ‘revolution’ as: ‘an attempt, by a large number of people, to change the government of a country, especially by violent action. Thus, a modern understanding of revolution is a far-reaching change to the core institutions of power and legitimacy in the previous regime, aiming to realise a fair political system that provides rights, freedom, and renewal for society.

Put more simply, a revolution is a social rebellion against an unjust system, seeking to move society to a better condition and to build a fairer system that redistributes power and resources under a clear social contract. It is often set in motion by social and intellectual elites, with the wider public bearing much of the cost; and, in many outcomes, the most pragmatic, and perhaps the most violent, actors take control. In Syria, the main driver of the popular movement, though some Syrians may disagree, was authoritarian rule that led to widespread corruption, which damaged the country’s society and economy. If we apply this modern understanding of ‘revolution’ to Syria, we should hope for a transition from authoritarianism to participation, from repression to freedom, and from a one-man political order to a transparent, participatory democracy that governs through a clear social contract agreed by the majority of Syrians.

4. What happened at the end of 2024?

With the collapse of the previous regime in Syria, and HTS, the spearhead of the military campaign at the time, taking power in Damascus, the outlines of a new phase began to appear, one without the Assad family. It became clear that the factions involved in the ‘Operation Deterrence of Aggression’ had come under alJolani’s (al-Sharaa’s) control, and this submission was even crowned by their leaders openly recognising him as Syria’s ruler at the end of January 2025. Some like to call him ‘president’, others ‘head of the transitional period’ or ‘interim president’. The 2012 constitution was suspended, parliament and its committees were dissolved, and all exceptional laws were halted, according to the Military Operations Administration.[3] Moving quickly, al-Sharaa formed a caretaker cabinet, then an interim government at the end of March 2025.

Of course, the situation is not rosy. The shadow of the Alawite rebellion in the coastal mountains, especially after the events of March 2025, still hangs over the Syrian scene and worries many supporters of the current authority. Most areas east of the Euphrates, some areas west of the Euphrates, and entire neighbourhoods in Aleppo city remain outside Damascus’s control and under the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), with no real steps by either side so far to unite under one flag. As for the areas formerly known as ‘Euphrates Shield’ north of Aleppo and the Afrin area, they are still controlled by Turkey-backed factions, which apparently merged into the new army, without clarity on the nature of central government control there. Lately, the events in Sweida last July undermined the idea of a single homeland for many Syrians, then, as seen practically on the ground, with repeated leaks about a security understanding with Israel, which seems to have the support, or even the backing, of the US administration.

As I start writing these lines, al-Sharaa is giving a speech at the UN General Assembly in New York. Supporters of the current authority see this as important progress and a big step towards formal diplomatic recognition and the complete removal of US and other sanctions. But the facts on the ground are different: sanctions have not, in practice, been lifted, and there are no real signs of full, explicit recognition. Attendance and speeches do not imply comprehensive or unconditional recognition, and today’s coverage describes it as only a cautious opening. Al-Sharaa himself and HTS as an organisation are still on terrorism lists of the United States, the United Kingdom, the United Nations, the European Union, and even Turkey by the way. This is truly strange: every trip by al-Sharaa needs special permission from the Security Council. To be able to attend, he was granted a time-limited travel exemption to New York (21–25 September 2025).

5. What is wrong with the current leadership?

To be honest, the question in my mind is: what is good about the current leadership? But I find myself on the defensive with many whose emotions have taken over, so I turn the question around: what is wrong with the current leadership?

First, to be clear, I am not discussing the individuals and structures of authority at the middle and lower levels. I am discussing the top leadership, Abu Mohammed al-Jawlani (Ahmad al-Sharaa) and the small circle around him, the decision-makers and the real holders of military and security power. For simplicity, I will address the ideas at several levels, starting with the political side, which many consider the most important.

5.1. Politically

Al-Sharaa said in February[4] this year that holding a presidential election in Syria would take four to five years. That timeline may sound reasonable and natural to some, especially those familiar with the country’s condition. But in fact it is an open promise, with no limits, commitments, real benchmarks or interim indicators. Why? First, simply because the Middle East has not known a leader who seized power by force and later gave it up peacefully or left office after a fair election. Will al-Sharaa be an exception? I strongly doubt it. In reality, the idea of a ‘fair’ election in this region in general, and in Syria in particular, is not realistic right now; Syrians themselves have not voted in a real election for decades. If a long period is said to be needed for stability, then clear commitments and written guarantees are required, not speeches and promises.

Second, there is no guarantee. Who can guarantee to the Syrian people that this will happen? Who can guarantee that the current leadership, once it has taken full control of the levers of power, will even try to hold a genuine election? There is no guarantee. The only supposed guarantee seems to be blind trust in this leadership, which, as al-Shaybani said in February, ‘We liberated the Syrian people, and if you free a hostage or abductee from his kidnapper, they cannot then ask you where you will take me.’5 This strange logic raises deep concern about what lies ahead. The only reasonable guarantee is to turn power into ‘rules’, not ‘intentions’, for example, by publishing a draft election law for public comment, announcing candidate criteria and ensuring equal media access, enabling binding local and international monitoring, and publishing quarterly budgets for ministries and municipalities with independent audits.

Third, if we try to anticipate the future, it is natural to look back. Where in the record of today’s leaders, or in HTS’s history, can we find reassurance on this point? Is there any sign of respect for political pluralism or even mention of it by any of them? Any practice, even a superficial one? Does the history of the Salvation Government in north-west Syria (2017–2024) show even a little possibility of this? Do the writings of the group’s scholars, or the ideologies believed by its leaders, point to it? The answer to all these questions is no. And if today’s rhetoric has changed, what matters is institutional behaviour. Has decision-making been decentralised? Have the security services withdrawn from the public sphere? Has genuine space been allowed for platforms and organisations outside the circle of loyalty? So far, no.

Fourth, looking as neutrally as possible at the formation of the ‘People’s Assembly, we see very troubling signs about this leadership’s respect for the people and for democracy. Thousands of names were ‘selected’ with no transparency, followed by an ‘election’ within the same pool to choose two-thirds of the members, with al-Sharaa appointing the remaining third. How, why, and by what right? The dangerous part is that this assembly is supposed to be a legislature that could later approve a new constitution, and perhaps international agreements and deals. Through this engineering, parliament shifts from a law-making and oversight body to a ‘legal stamp’ for executive decisions: one-third appointed and two-thirds ‘elected’ via closed, selective bodies, with the exclusion of Sweida and parts of Hasaka and Raqqa, and with very weak representation of women, and no real right for an opposition to organise, access media, or obtain funding. This is not a procedural detail; it is representation-by-design that favours loyalty over competition and cancels the principle of popular mandate.

Simply put, the Assad system reached power through a military coup and external understandings, then gave its rule a veneer of legitimacy through sham elections. Is al-Sharaa repeating this? Yes, it seems so. Sadly, things are moving in the same direction, with no sign of a real shift towards plural, good governance. The only difference so far is the language, not the logic.

In addition, the majority–minority problem still dominates the scene. So far, it is clear that minorities, neither as communities nor via their social leaders or political elites, have recognised the new rule. In truth, there is no sign of their being included or integrated in any meaningful way, or even consulted. What is required of them is submission, and only submission. More precisely, what is required is a ‘silent mandate’ without protected rights. Real inclusion begins with recognition and respect, with accepting the other and truly sharing in sovereign decisions, with defined representation in numbers and budgets, with guarantees of local security, and with elected committees to run their cultural and linguistic affairs within the state framework. Anything else is managing diversity by force, not partnership. And the rule here is simple: there is no citizenship without real representation, and no stability without a new social contract. Without that, any talk of a ‘transition’ is only old authoritarianism in new packaging.

5.2. Economically

Before judging the current leadership in Damascus, we should remember HTS’s ‘laboratory’ in north-west Syria (2017–2024). How did that go? In reality, the local economy ran largely on humanitarian aid, controlled on the ground by the Salvation Government through permits, committees, and ‘regulatory bodies’ that held the keys to crossings, licences, and access. Around these aid flows a web of fees and levies was built on lorries and NGOs, alongside open and disguised monopolies such as Watad for fuel, Sham Bank/the Monetary Agency for transfers and exchange, the telecoms authority/Internet providers, and border crossings, mainly Bab al-Hawa, bringing in millions of dollars a month. The result was the making of an economic oligarchy of new businessmen tied to the security-economic circle of decision-making: they received concessions, set prices, and recycled profits inside the same circle, while small traders were sidelined and ‘the security services enforced zakat’ and collections. This was not so much market regulation as it was turning humanitarian aid and the local economy into political rents, building a clientelist alliance between power and intermediaries that guaranteed loyalty before service.

This experience highlights the structural flaw we warn about today at the national level. When power becomes both the donor’s gate and the trader’s gate, economic policy is reduced to managing permits and passage, not to a public contract on taxes, services, and accountability. Because the north-west model rested on crossing rents, near-total monopolies in key sectors (fuel, transfers, telecoms), and turning law into a tool of selection, it produced ‘top-to-top’ growth: guaranteed profits for close partners, higher costs for consumers and local producers, and a slow erosion of social trust in the market itself. Here lies the danger: scaling this model nationally would lock in a privilege economy, not a rules-based one, and would in practice close any window for productive, fair growth. More importantly, this pattern is not only an economic mistake; it also aligns with a governing philosophy that rewards loyalty and punishes independence, promoting a political-control economy rather than value creation.

Back to the present. The problem is not really a lack of money but the lack of a compass. As Karam Shaar sees it, the force driving decisions today is not an economic school so much as a tug-of-war between three poles: a military elite that won on the battlefield and wants quick returns; a large, old bureaucracy that slows and muddles; and advisers and international institutions pushing for regulation and modernity without a full supporting frame. This mix naturally leads to improvisation, which is understandable and predictable, but risky. What we now have are mixed signals on privatisation: there is a parallel investment body (‘the Sovereign Fund!’) linked directly to the presidency with no accountability or transparency; and there are licensing and contracting tracks where it is unclear who holds the upper hand: the ministry, the governorate, or the sovereign fund. Business conditions again reward closeness and loyalty, not competence and professionalism. The result is a system trying to attract investment with ‘regulatory generosity’ from above while leaving the base of the economy without rules. We do not see reliable correspondent banking, safe payroll and utilities payment channels, or a social safety net to soften price shocks. The scene then slides again towards prioritising benefits at the top, hoping they ‘trickle down’ to the bottom, a pattern that regional experience and the literature show does not work by itself. This is not a growth policy (as Karam says); it is a zero-sum approach that manages scarcity through orders rather than rules, leaving investors and policymakers without a single direction. Put simply: you cannot ask the market to take risks while keeping the law vague, taxes negotiable, and concessions a security decision.[5]

Karam also notes that current ‘discipline’ tools, such as a stricter line on drugs and lower petty bribery, are good, but will not last without real institutional design. Captagon control improved in volume terms for a few months, yes, but the lack of action against major networks suggests a risk of structural relapse when incentives change. Likewise, fighting corruption as a moral stance does not replace fixing salaries that do not cover basic living expenses, nor does it build compliance channels that reconnect banks to the world. In short, unless ‘signals’ turn into clear governance standards, such as a unified treasury, fair but straightforward tax rules, transparent energy and water contracts, an accountable sovereign fund, and monthly service indicators, we will keep running an economy without a compass: a few indicators rise from a low base, those least hurt by the war gain first, and the poor remain, sadly, at the end of the queue.

So, again, the core problem is how power is engineered over the market. An oligarchic model recycles rent through close intermediaries while a rules-based state is postponed. Frankly, unless promises turn into measurable indicators, legitimacy will remain ‘functional,’ measured by control rather than service, and improvements will stay at the top of the pyramid. Worse, the imbalance feeds straight back into society: widening class gaps, fragile peripheral towns, and a shrinking middle class. From here, the social question naturally follows the economic one: how do we rewrite the social contract to achieve stability and ensure its benefits reach people, not just broker networks?

5.3. Socially

A social contract is a binding agreement -explicit or implicit- that sets out who governs and how they govern: rights and guarantees for citizens, duties and responsibilities for the state, with public rules and accountability mechanisms that shift power from individuals to institutions. The classic formulations go back to Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau. In modern political science, it is understood as an institutional arrangement that creates credible commitments between ruler and ruled, and lowers the costs of dealings and of violence.

Why is it essential for stable societies? When the social contract is clear and respected, voluntary compliance (with taxes and the law) rises, and people’s trust grows that service is matched by accountability. Coercion is used less, and the political space for clientelism and naked force shrinks. Put simply, a real social contract produces stability that can last because its rules are general and neutral, not because people fear the authorities or fear the return of a past regime and its revenge. The literature, therefore, links a good social contract with the rule of law, quality of government, and the ability to resolve disputes peacefully.[6]

Syria’s current social breakdown is not accidental; it is a direct result of the absence of a binding social contract. The problem today is that the current leadership has replaced the contract with a deal: ‘security in exchange for silence’. Sadly, when state legitimacy is measured by control rather than service, a two-tier society forms: first, networks tied to decision centres that capture privilege; second, a majority that pays the cost of living. Class and regional gaps widen, while the capital and its suburbs are studded with selective projects that create a false image of ‘stability’ without changing people’s lives. Excuse me, this is not a social contract; it is a system of favours, not rights.

A real social contract begins by defining the two sides and measurable commitments: what the state guarantees the citizen each day, what the citizen commits to, and the arbitration mechanisms that apply when either side fails. Today, however, the relationship is run as guardianship. The public sphere is quietly but firmly constrained: platforms open to those who say ‘yes’ and close to those who ask ‘how?’. Bit by bit, civil society is replaced by ‘licensed organisations’ run more by regulations, published and unpublished, than by values. For example, banners for ‘women’s and youth empowerment’ go up in conference halls while schools lack qualified teachers and basic infrastructure, universities lack real funding, and hospitals lack medicines. The real social indicator is not the number of events, especially those the leadership broadcasts live and celebrates as outstanding achievements, spending millions, but rather the hours of water and electricity in working-class neighbourhoods, the length of the pharmacy queue at clinics, and the rate of school dropouts.

The question of refugee and IDP returns clearly shows the absence of this contract. Millions weigh the pull of going back against fear. So far, there is no framework for individual and collective protection, no fair mechanism to restore housing, land, and property, and no guarantee of basic services on arrival. Return thus shifts from a natural right to a deadly trap.

As for minorities and local components, they are not PR files or talking points in international meetings; they are core contracting parties in the social contract. Real inclusion of Syria’s diverse communities is not a photo-op or a token seat. It means powers, budgets, local security guarantees, and elected councils to run cultural and linguistic affairs within the state framework. Without binding consultation paths and real representation, horizontal trust among Syrians will continue to erode, and vertical trust between society and the state will fade. As trust falls, reliance on the security stick rises, and the cycle that sparked the revolution begins again.

So, if we want to test the leadership’s seriousness, the measure is not reconciliation speeches or general words, but the clauses of a clear social contract. It must start with guaranteed, public rights for all, be built on a representative partnership that begins with local councils, unions, and associations, and be protected by organised safeguards for every component of Syrian society. Without that, we remain in the ‘security for silence’ equation. Simply put, the roots of the revolution cannot be addressed without a binding social contract. Unless promises turn into general, neutral rules applied to everyone, talk of ‘stability’ will be only a truce over ongoing fragility, not a real move to the rule of law.

5.4. Law and Rule of Law

The core of the revolution was straightforward: we want a state of law that restrains the ruler before it restrains the ruled; a state that treats people equally, protects dignity, property, and freedom, and shifts power from individuals to rules. This is the ‘founding demand’ people took to the streets for in 2011: an end to the age of security orders; normal courts instead of exceptional ones; clear law instead of emergency law; and the right to defence and due process instead of administrative detention and blackmail. Put simply, the rule of law. Today, despite new faces, we are still far from the rule of law. The country is run by personal, top-down decisions from an authority that brought together a chosen group to draft a ‘constitutional declaration’ giving it near-divine powers, with no mechanisms for review or even discussion.

Where is the flaw? In short, the current leadership builds legitimacy of control, not legitimacy of law. The independence of prosecutors and judges from the security apparatus is not guaranteed; in fact, a ‘General Security’ body has been created that is gradually turning into something similar to the Assad-era security branches. There is no independent constitutional review, and no clear due-process framework has been set out, such as time-limited, reasoned arrest warrants; searches only with judicial authorisation; public hearings; and much more. Housing and property rights remain hostage to coercive realities; the missing are treated as a ‘security file’, denying victims their rights; and the rules for officially publishing laws, contracts, and regulations do not work as they should. Where ministries and municipalities should be bound by public law, a ‘security coordinator’ or extra-legal committee with direct links to the presidency steps in to have the final word. Again, a state of law is not built this way; it simply recycles the same flawed logic Syrians rose up against.

So, what does the rule of law mean in practice? It means a hierarchy of norms in which the constitution stands above statutes, and statutes above instructions. It means an independent judiciary in budget, appointments, and immunity. It means a constitutional court or review body that strikes down rights violations. It means limiting security bodies to gathering information, not making judicial decisions. It means abolishing and criminalising administrative detention. It means restoring professional bar associations for lawyers and judges to protect the professions from interference. It means effective, swift, and transparent procedures for housing and property rights. It means an official gazette that publishes every contract and procurement rule before they take effect. Without this, any talk of elections or stability is a façade over a structure ready to collapse or explode at any moment.

Sadly, and as expected given the Salvation Government’s experience, the current leadership has not delivered the revolution’s central demand: turning power into law-binding on everyone. The state is still run by instructions, with dual authority between written rules and security tutelage. Without breaking this logic, there will be no rule of law, no restored trust or investment, and no safe return or civil peace. In short, there is no transition to something better without the rule of law, and there is no rule of law so long as ‘orders’ trump the text.

5.5. Religiously

This side may seem unclear to some, and secondary to others, but it is no less critical. It is directly tied to the social situation and the likelihood of its stability, as well as the social contract and its solidity. Its importance is even greater today because the transition itself is ‘on a knife-edge’, as UN envoy Geir Pedersen recently put it, with sectarian tensions rising and reforms slowing.[7] That makes managing religious diversity part of the stability equation, not an add-on.

Historically, Sunni religiosity in Syria formed around Ash‘ari/Maturidi theology, Shafi‘i/Hanafi law, Sufi networks, and an urban class of scholars who acted as a ‘social intermediary’ between state and society. This background is clearly documented in Thomas Pierret’s work on Sunni scholars and the structure of Syria’s religious field.[8] Sunni practice grew from this blend led by scholarly elites, with a strong role for awqāf and traditional religious schools in Damascus, Aleppo, Hama, and Homs. At the start of the 2011 uprising, mosques served as a ‘safe space’ to gather after Friday prayers, which explains their centrality in the first spark of protest. This institutional religious legacy, rather than abstract ideological slogans, shaped, for decades, how religion related to the state and society.

For decades, Ba‘ath rule entrenched state tutelage over the religious field through the Ministry of Awqaf, appointing imams and preachers and monitoring religious content. The problem has never been religion itself, but politicising and ideologising it. Today, as the centre of power shifts, religious control is being recast with new tools: fatwa councils, oversight bodies, top-down appointments, and the steering of curricula and discourse, all without a clear compact that protects pluralism among Sunni schools and guarantees the rights of other sects.

By contrast, al-Qaeda and groups that sprang from it, such as IS, Jabhat al-Nusra, and others, follow a Wahhabi/‘jihadi-Salafi’ approach. These groups often regard Muslims who reject their doctrine as apostates, whose fight ranks above fighting other sects or ‘original unbelievers’ (as they call Christians, Jews, and other faiths). When looking closely, you find a shared core across these organisations, with differences in timing, method, and scope of application, but not in fundamental doctrine.

Despite localisation and pragmatism after 2017 in north-west Syria, their doctrinal reference points and religious-control institutions remained closer to a model that excludes diversity and subjects the religious field to security bodies, differing from ISIS in degree and method of application, not in core doctrine. In my study published in May 2022,[9] I explained how HTS adopted a strategy of ‘diplomacy’ in its religious messaging, and reports by Crisis Group[10] and CSIS[11], along with recent academic work, have also noted this mix of softer religious rhetoric with tighter organisational control over mosques, fatwas, and religious education in Idlib and the surrounding areas.

In the years before the fall of the Assad regime, HTS used a gradual method to impose Wahhabi thought. A clear pattern emerged from the facts on the ground. Imams from this current were appointed as Friday preachers; step by step, control extended to all mosques and Islamic institutes. The same approach was pushed in Qur’an-memorisation centres and orphanages, and featured as a routine part of the ‘religious course’ used in fighter recruitment and training. The public tone was pragmatic, avoiding open clashes with local custom and presenting itself as a ‘modern Islamic administration’. In practice, the keys of public religiosity stayed with the security-linked bodies. Even as cross-border ‘jihadist’ language receded, central control over religious decisions stayed high, and jihadist narratives continued to influence the periphery and security institutions.

Because Syria’s traditional Islamic centres were not in those areas, resistance there to this approach was lighter; war also delayed or dampened many intellectual and social clashes with the imported current of thought. It is different in the main cities, where Islamic thought has been rooted for centuries. The Wahhabi approach directly collides with ‘Shami’ (Levantine) religiosity, and doctrinal confrontation cannot be ruled out, especially if traditional city scholars are replaced by younger preachers from that approach and its spread continues unchecked.

Where is the real problem? For Sunni Muslims, what is happening is not only promoting one school of thought, but replacing an authentic religious identity and heritage. For other sects and faiths, the risk of conflict rises as this approach is imposed and generalised, since it does not recognise intellectual freedom or pluralism and sees enforcing its view as a duty on everyone. The Ash‘ari tradition in the Levant has long acted as a safety valve for civil peace; that could change quickly if an exclusionary, supremacist and confrontational approach is spread and enforced, particularly among youth and teenagers.

5.6. Accountability and Transitional Justice

The year 2025 opened a narrow window in Syria for something like justice, but it did not close the door on impunity. On the UN side, the Independent Institution for Missing Persons in Syria (IIMP) began to work more widely, opening portals to receive requests and offering legal and psychological support for families, along with steps to build a national register that seeks the truth, rather than archiving pain only on Facebook pages. By early September, the institution announced its first advisory council and renewed its mandate to uncover the fate of the missing and support their families; at the same time, it asked for greater political and financial backing so that its work could move from collecting testimonies to results that can be enforced. Of course, real progress remains fragile, and with every week that doors remain closed to it, the gap widens between the promises of a ‘transition’ and people’s rights.

By contrast, the UN Commission of Inquiry reminds us that a change of slogans does not erase a record of violations. Systematic, arbitrary arrests, torture, and deaths in detention during the previous era are crimes that do not lapse with time. In its statement on 27 January, the Commission used the phrase ‘a web of torment’ to describe the detention system, setting an ethical and legal standard that cannot simply be bypassed by reconciliation rhetoric alone. This context explains why universal jurisdiction outside Syria is moving ahead, with new cases and judgments in Europe and annual reports showing wider use of foreign courts to pursue war crimes. These paths cannot replace an independent national judiciary, but they do raise expectations and place brakes on a return to ‘immunity for the powerful’ in new clothing.[12]

Inside Syria, the picture is more complex. National fact-finding committees on the coast and in Sweida presented figures and documents for the first time, but stopped at field-level responsibility and avoided approaching leadership accountability. The UN envoy warned that managing security without a justice track fuels polarisation in Syrian society and weakens trust in the new state institutions. Add to this that humanitarian funding in the first half of the year did not exceed about 16% of needs, and that Brussels pledges (around €6 billion) were tied to institutional progress; some of that money flows through humanitarian channels outside the government. This may create an incentive on paper, but it also leaves gaps in reparations and justice services if funds are not paired with an independent national capacity to deliver.[13]

Despite the complexity, the signals that convince both domestic and external audiences are not reconciliation speeches but concrete steps; chief among them: opening the archives and prisons to the IIMP; criminalising enforced disappearance and torture and referring them to ordinary, not exceptional, courts; fast-tracking housing, land, and property rights to defuse return-related disputes; and, perhaps most important, professional vetting of the security and justice sectors to international standards, not based on loyalty. Without this, foreign courts will continue to fill the gap, and international promises will remain conditional on behaviour that can be measured, not on images and language. In Syria’s case, transitional justice is not a ‘legal luxury’; it is the cornerstone of any new social contract, one that defines security as the result of the rule of law, not a substitute for it.

6. So, Did the Revolution Succeed?

If we measure the revolution’s success by removing the head of the regime alone, then the face has changed and the symbol has fallen. But if we measure it by the revolution’s real aims: building a fair and clean political system that provides full rights, freedom, and renewal for society; shifting power from persons to rules; the rule of law; real representation; and non-selective justice, then sadly the answer is no, not yet. So far, what has happened is a change at the top of the pyramid, not a transformation at the base of the state. We have moved from open authoritarianism to de facto authoritarianism that promises delayed elections, engineers representation, and favours loyalty over mandate. The Syrian revolution was never a passing moment but an ongoing process, and its measure is whether new institutions lower the cost of dissent, expand participation, and protect the weak before the strong. So far, participation thresholds remain high, and fear is still part of the equation.

Put more simply, revolutions succeed when they change the ‘rules of the game’, not just the ‘players’. In Syria, the ruling family was removed but the powers of the ‘security state’ were not reduced; a new parliament was announced, but without true pluralism in organising, media, and funding, and the country was promised a presidential election years from now, without written guarantees. At this point, the revolution has achieved a political breakthrough, not an institutional transformation, and the difference between the two will shape 2026 and beyond.

7. Now, Where is The Fault?

In short, the fault lies in the logic of rule, not in ‘lack of time’ or the ‘magnitude of the challenges’. It lies in this transfer of power that is run as a security arrangement, not as a binding social contract; in a privileges economy that allocates rent by proximity and loyalty, not competence. In this set-up, rule is fixed by the logic of ‘might makes right’ and people are governed by the logic of ‘no alternative’.

To call things by their names, the problem is unwarranted high-handedness, excessive centralisation without checks, exceptional powers with no time limits, and governance by exception rather than by law. The remedy is clear and possible, but only if there is the will to turn promises into concrete, measurable rules. Only then can we say the revolution has begun to succeed, not because it removed a person, but because it bound power by law and managed to widen people’s rights to participate and hold leaders to account.

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Note: As these issues warrant separate, in-depth treatment, this article intentionally omits analysis of the intelligence and security links of HTS leaders, including connections to al-Qaeda and the wider global jihad.

[1] I started working on this article on 24 September.

[2] Jack A. Goldstone, “Toward a Fourth Generation of Revolutionary Theory,” Annual Review of Political Science 4 (2001): 139–187, https://www.annualreviews.org/content/journals/10.1146/annurev.polisci.4.1.139.

[3] https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/c70ely2p6e4o\

[4] https://www.reuters.com/world/middle-east/syrias-sharaa-says-it-will-take-4-5-years-hold-presidential-election-2025-02-03/ 5 https://www.instagram.com/reel/DF-fm5tPjmG/

[5] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQr0HARrwX4

[6] (North 1990؛ Levi 1988؛ Rothstein 2011). https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/institutions-institutional-change-and-economicperformance/AAE1E27DF8996E24C5DD07EB79BBA7EE?utm_source=chatgpt.com

[7] England, Andrew. “Syria on ‘Knife-Edge’ in Wake of Sectarian Clashes, Warns UN Envoy.” Financial Times, October 7, 2025. Available at:

https://www.ft.com/content/0af93c90-2022-4755-9a2b-e55a971d3155

[8] Pierret, Religion and State in Syria: The Sunni Ulama from Coup to Revolution (Cambridge University Press).

https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/religion-and-state-in-syria/B32B69AB623846BC0BD2BEC331D65529?utm_source=chatgpt.com

[9] A. Keser and F. Fakhoury, “Hay’at Tahrir Al-Sham (HTS) from an Insurgent Group to a Local Authority: Emergence, Development and Social

Support Base,” Studies in Conflict & Terrorism, Vol. 48, Issue 1 (2025): 46–66, https://doi.org/10.1080/1057610X.2022.2082833

[10] https://www.crisisgroup.org/middle-east-north-africa/east-mediterranean-mena/syria/239-containing-transnational-jihadists-syrias

[11] https://www.csis.org/blogs/examining-extremism/examining-extremism-hayat-tahrir-al-sham-hts

[12] https://www.ohchr.org/en/press-releases/2025/01/web-agony-un-commissions-report-unveils-depths-former-governmentsdetention?utm_source=chatgpt.com

[13] England, Andrew. “Syria on ‘Knife-Edge’ in Wake of Sectarian Clashes, Warns UN Envoy.” Financial Times, October 7, 2025. Available at:

https://www.ft.com/content/0af93c90-2022-4755-9a2b-e55a971d3155

Originally published at https://www.academia.edu.