Foreign Fighters in Syria: Problem or Part of the Solution?

In this photo released by the Saudi Royal Palace, Syria's interim President Ahmad al-Sharaa, left, shakes hands with President Donald Trump, center, in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Wednesday, May 14, 2025. At right is Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman.(Bandar Aljaloud/Saudi Royal Palace via AP)
In this photo released by the Saudi Royal Palace, Syria's interim President Ahmad al-Sharaa, left, shakes hands with President Donald Trump, center, in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Wednesday, May 14, 2025. At right is Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman.(Bandar Aljaloud/Saudi Royal Palace via AP)
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Foreign Fighters in Syria: Problem or Part of the Solution?

In this photo released by the Saudi Royal Palace, Syria's interim President Ahmad al-Sharaa, left, shakes hands with President Donald Trump, center, in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Wednesday, May 14, 2025. At right is Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman.(Bandar Aljaloud/Saudi Royal Palace via AP)
In this photo released by the Saudi Royal Palace, Syria's interim President Ahmad al-Sharaa, left, shakes hands with President Donald Trump, center, in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Wednesday, May 14, 2025. At right is Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman.(Bandar Aljaloud/Saudi Royal Palace via AP)

US President Donald Trump’s announcement to lift sanctions on Syria came with five conditions, chief among them the demand that “all foreign fighters” leave Syrian territory, a requirement that poses a significant challenge to the new administration of President Ahmed al-Sharaa.

The presence of these fighters, many of whom have been allied for years with Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), underscores the complexity of Trump’s demand. These militants played a key role in the conflict against former President Bashar al-Assad, and many in HTS view them as having earned their place on the battlefield through loyalty and sacrifice.

The influx of foreign fighters into Syria began with the formation of the Free Syrian Army in the early days of the uprising. Türkiye’s border soon became a dual gateway, a route of escape for Syrians fleeing war, either settling in Türkiye or continuing toward Europe, and a corridor for hundreds of non-Syrian fighters arriving to join the battle.

Initially, many of these fighters aligned themselves with non-ideological armed groups. But over time, especially between 2012 and 2014, as the regime intensified its use of barrel bombs and heavy weaponry on opposition-held neighborhoods, the foreign fighters gained prominence in what became known as the “revolutionary strongholds,” particularly in Syria’s north.

‘The Migrants’ of the Revolution

Their combat skills and commitment earned them both fear and admiration. In this period, foreign fighters often led the charge in so-called “inghimasi” (commando-style) and suicide operations, which won them significant support among local communities. They were dubbed “al-Muhajireen” - the migrants - a reference both to their origins and their perceived dedication to the Syrian cause.

Following the collapse of the former Syrian regime on December 8, foreign fighter factions such as the Turkistan Islamic Party, Ajnad al-Sham and Ajnad al-Kavkaz (Chechens) emerged as key players within the operations command room led by the HTS.

In his first public remarks on the presence of foreign fighters, Syria’s new president described them as instrumental in toppling Bashar al-Assad’s regime and said they “deserve to be rewarded.”

Speaking to journalists in mid-January, al-Sharaa said the atrocities committed by the former government had necessitated foreign support, and hinted at the possibility of granting these fighters Syrian citizenship, a suggestion that sparked widespread debate.

Soon after, the new administration took steps that signaled both gratitude and political calculation: several foreign fighters were appointed to senior military posts in the newly restructured Syrian army, with ranks ranging from colonel to brigadier general.

Among the most prominent were Jordanian Abdulrahman Hussein al-Khatib, promoted to brigadier general; Egyptian Alaa Mohamed Abdel Baki; Uyghur militant Abdulaziz Dawood Khodabardi; Tajik national Moulana Tursun Abdulsamad; Turkish fighter Omar Mohamed Jeftchi Mukhtar; Albanian Abdul Bashari Khattab; and Dagestani native Zanor al-Basri Abdelhamid Abdullah, the commander of the “Army of Emigrants and Supporters.”

A Dilemma at the Heart of Syria’s Future

A former HTS commander, speaking to Asharq Al-Awsat on condition of anonymity, said the al-Sharaa administration is unlikely to oppose the US demand.

“The muhajireen brothers themselves are not clinging to their positions if they stand in the way of the country’s interests,” he said.

Indeed, less than 24 hours after Trump and al-Sharaa met in the Saudi capital, local Syrian outlets began reporting that General Security forces had raided foreign fighter strongholds in rural Idlib.

Asharq Al-Awsat was unable to independently verify the reports, but whether the raids were genuine or simply political theater, analysts say the message was unmistakable: Damascus may be willing to act decisively to secure international recognition and economic relief.

Kareem Mohammed, a current Syrian army commander and former battalion leader in the HTS with direct ties to foreign fighters, told Asharq Al-Awsat from Damascus that these combatants still hold significant sway within the country’s military and security apparatus, as well as among the revolution’s grassroots base.

“There is no interest for the government in taking negative action against them,” Mohammed said. “They remain popular within the ranks of the new army and the revolutionary heartland.”

Mohammed added that several countries have recently begun raising the issue of foreign fighters as a bargaining chip in their engagement with Syria’s new leadership. But he emphasized the crucial role these militants - referred to by rebels as al-Muhajireen (the migrants) - played from the outset of the uprising.

“These fighters had a decisive impact from the early days of the revolution. Their military expertise stood out in key battles,” he said.

According to Mohammed, the al-Sharaa government is actively working to distance the muhajireen from internal political conflicts and reassign them to their former positions in Idlib. There are also promises of eventual integration into Syrian society and possibly even the granting of citizenship down the line.

The ongoing debate over the presence of foreign fighters in Syria may be based on a misunderstanding, according to extremist group researcher Hossam Jazmati, who says Western powers are not explicitly calling for their expulsion.

“The American and Western demands are not about deporting foreign fighters,” Jazmati told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“Rather, they focus on two main conditions: that these individuals do not hold prominent positions in the emerging Syrian state, particularly in the army, security, or government , and that Syrian territory is not used by any of them to launch, prepare for, or train for military operations abroad.”

Jazmati noted that even during Hayat Tahrir al-Sham’s control over Idlib in recent years, the group maintained a policy of preventing factions from using Syrian territory as a base for cross-border attacks.

“HTS managed to keep the jihadist movements in check, discouraging any ambitions of launching operations beyond Syria’s borders,” he said.

As the future of foreign fighters in Syria hangs in the balance, allies and commanders aligned with the so-called muhajireen are rejecting any calls for their expulsion or forced repatriation.

“What their brothers and allies refuse is the idea of throwing them out of a country they fought to defend against a brutal regime, or handing them over to their home countries, where prison, or even execution, likely awaits,” said Jazmati.

“Generally speaking, I don’t believe that leaders and fighters in the HTS, or other factions, or even the religious and revolutionary base that admires the muhajireen model, insist on these fighters taking part in building the new state,” he added. “Nor do I think the foreign fighters themselves want that.”

That sentiment is echoed by Abu Hafs al-Turkistani, a former leader in the Turkistan Islamic Party who now heads a battalion within the Syrian army under the Ministry of Defense. His unit, composed mainly of Uyghur fighters, is stationed between Idlib and the Latakia countryside.

“We didn’t come to Syria to kill Syrians,” Turkistani told Asharq Al-Awsat. “We didn’t come here for money or positions. We came to support them, to share their suffering and help them as best we could, and thanks to God, victory was achieved, and we are honored to have taken part in it.”

Turkistani dismissed accusations linking foreign fighters to recent violence in coastal areas or in Sweida as part of a broader media campaign to vilify them. “These are baseless allegations,” he said.

Turkistani insisted that foreign fighters have largely kept to themselves and respected Syrian customs and traditions.

“We never interfered in the lives of Syrians. We’ve lived among them for years and stayed out of their personal affairs. Every nation has its differences, and while we may not agree on everything, we never tried to impose ourselves on their society,” he said.

As for past incidents in Idlib involving foreign fighters, Turkistani acknowledged isolated cases but said they were not repeated and did not reflect a broader pattern of misconduct. “The Syrians know that well,” he added.

Jazmati says Syria’s new leadership could resolve the foreign fighters dilemma by allowing them to stay under clear legal terms, provided they step away from power and military involvement.

“The muhajireen can remain in Syria under officially agreed legal arrangements, as civilians only,” Jazmati told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“They were never here to govern, and should not be placed at the forefront of a state they have no intention of ruling. But they must also pledge not to use Syrian territory to plan or launch jihadist operations in their home countries or elsewhere, as that could cause serious harm. If they refuse, they can leave for a destination of their choice.”

Appointments Stir Controversy

A foreign fighter of Arab nationality, known as Abu Mohammed, told Asharq Al-Awsat that he and others remain committed to the state led by al-Sharaa.

“We will not turn against Sharaa. We never did,” he said. “We avoided factional infighting and always prioritized Syria’s interests, which never clashed with our own. We were ready to die for the lives of Syrians, and now we know how to live under a state we respect and value.”

However, Jazmati warned that the real challenge lies in undoing the senior military appointments made shortly after the fall of the Assad regime, including three generals and three colonels, all foreign nationals.

“Reversing those promotions and assignments is a political and institutional dilemma,” Jazmati said. “It’s only been three weeks since the regime’s collapse, and these titles carry weight.”

According to confidential information seen by Jazmati, Syrian officials have pledged to halt the appointment of non-Syrians going forward.

But resolving the status of those already promoted remains a sensitive issue, one that may require a compromise that preserves their dignity, rank, and possibly even their current roles.

Efforts to limit the influence of foreign fighters in Syria’s post-Assad era are unlikely to trigger a resurgence of al-Qaeda or ISIS, according Jazmati.

“I don’t see al-Qaeda seeking a revival in Syria after its affiliate, Hurras al-Din, was dismantled,” Jazmati told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“As for ISIS, while its Syrian strategy remains unclear, it could attempt to recruit disaffected individuals, both Syrian and foreign, who are frustrated by the new government’s policies. Other smaller groups may also emerge, especially those that believe the current leadership is straying from their interpretation of Islamic law.”

Fragmented Landscape of Foreign Fighters

Not all foreign fighters in Syria fall along a single ideological spectrum. Divisions among them have existed since the early days of their arrival, influenced by how they were recruited and the routes they took to join the war.

Some were brought in through structured recruitment networks. These fighters were often contacted online, vetted, and then smuggled into Syria through well-organized channels. Others arrived independently, relying on human smugglers and covering their own travel costs, usually via Türkiye on tourist visas.

By mid-2013, as the rebel scene in Syria splintered, foreign fighters mostly gravitated toward jihadist factions, especially Jabhat al-Nusra. A smaller number joined so-called “moderate” groups such as Liwa al-Tawhid in Aleppo.

Ideological Rifts and Realignment

As rivalries over ideology and influence deepened, most foreign fighters shifted between groups, particularly after Jabhat al-Nusra’s break from ISIS. The split followed its former leader Ahmad al-Sharaa’s refusal to pledge allegiance to ISIS leader Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, instead aligning with former al-Qaeda chief Ayman al-Zawahiri.

That move sparked further defections, with some foreign fighters rejecting al-Zawahiri’s authority and joining ISIS.

Clashes between the factions ensued, eventually leading to the rise of independent groups like Jund al-Aqsa, founded by Abu Abdul Aziz al-Qatari, a jihadist of Palestinian origin born in Iraq.

Other units formed along national lines, including Uyghur, Uzbek, and Chechen battalions.

By mid-2014, the rise of ISIS across western Iraq and into Syria’s Deir Ezzor, Raqqa, parts of Hasakah, and the Aleppo and Idlib countryside intensified rivalries among jihadist factions.

ISIS declared other foreign-led groups apostates, even as many maintained ties with Jabhat al-Nusra and adopted a position of neutrality in the escalating infighting.

Factions like the Turkistan Islamic Party, Ajnad al-Sham, Ajnad al-Kavkaz, and Ansar al-Tawhid, as well as remnants of Jund al-Aqsa, survived through Assad’s fall, opting for autonomy or quiet alliance with the HTS.

The Syrianization of the Fight

Between 2014 and 2018, HTS, under the leadership of Abu Mohammad al-Jolani (al-Sharaa), systematically sidelined foreign fighters, removing them from leadership roles and the media spotlight.

Many were arrested or expelled, especially those affiliated with hardline factions such as Hurras al-Din, or those resistant to HTS’s pivot toward local governance.

The shift was both strategic and ideological.

Syrians increasingly resented the dominance of foreign leaders within the group, while international actors, particularly Türkiye, raised concerns about HTS’s associations with transnational jihadism.

Foreign fighters were often seen preaching al-Qaeda-style rhetoric and resisting cooperation with the Turkish military,which they denounced due to its NATO membership.

Al-Sharaa responded by launching a sweeping reform within HTS, marginalizing extremists regardless of nationality.

He rebranded the movement’s mission from global jihad to Syrian nationalism, using phrases like “Thawrat Ahl al-Sham” (“the revolution of the people of the Levant”) to underscore local priorities.

Many foreign fighters aligned with this vision, describing themselves as “supporters” rather than leaders of Syria’s future, as HTS moved to integrate them into the new nationalist framework.

Al-Sharaa’s project of “Syrianizing” the battle and its fighters aimed to distance the group from its jihadist roots and bring it closer to the political mainstream.

Now as president, al-Sharaa faces a new test: can he extend this project of ideological reform and integration under a national flag, while appeasing international stakeholders demanding limits on foreign fighters?

Observers say success will depend on his ability to restructure without alienating the fighters who once formed the backbone of the armed opposition.

The challenge lies in balancing their role in Syria’s recent history with the imperatives of diplomacy, reconstruction, and future security.

Whether Sharaa’s past efforts at moderation and localization can evolve into a credible state policy remains to be seen but with pressure mounting from both allies and adversaries, the answer may define the country’s next chapter.



Worn Banknotes, Tobacco Taxes: How Hamas Pays Its Members

Palestinians shop amid the rubble in Khan Younis in southern Gaza, February last year (DPA)
Palestinians shop amid the rubble in Khan Younis in southern Gaza, February last year (DPA)
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Worn Banknotes, Tobacco Taxes: How Hamas Pays Its Members

Palestinians shop amid the rubble in Khan Younis in southern Gaza, February last year (DPA)
Palestinians shop amid the rubble in Khan Younis in southern Gaza, February last year (DPA)

More than two months after a fragile ceasefire between Israel and Hamas took effect in Gaza, the group has steadily reasserted some security control in areas under its authority. Yet for Gaza’s residents, daily economic hardship and deteriorating living conditions show little sign of easing.

Hamas’s popular base, made up of its members, their families, and supporters, remains a key pillar of its strength. Nearly two years of war with Israel have partially disrupted the group’s ability to consistently pay salaries.

During the war, Israel sought to dry up Hamas’s financial network by killing figures responsible for transferring money inside Gaza, as well as raiding currency exchange companies in the occupied West Bank that Israeli authorities said were linked to Palestinian factions.

According to field sources and Hamas officials who spoke to Asharq Al-Awsat, the group faced difficulties and delays in paying salaries regularly at leadership, field and other levels due to security conditions.

It has since resumed partial payments to all its members, including leaders and fighters from the Izz al-Din al-Qassam Brigades, Hamas’s armed wing, while paying lower rates to its preaching and social apparatus, described as civilian elements.

Where does Hamas get its money?

Sources agree that Hamas has managed to preserve some of its financial resources, including commercial activities inside and outside Gaza. One Hamas source said these business revenues generate income for the group alongside funds received from supporting parties such as Iran and others.

They added that such external support fluctuates, sometimes declining, increasing or arriving with delays for reasons related to the donors.

The source said Hamas faces growing difficulties in transferring funds into Gaza, forcing those overseeing salary payments to rely on whatever cash remains accessible in their reserves or to collect revenues from their own commercial sources.

How are salaries paid?

Sources who receive some of these payments told Asharq Al-Awsat, on condition of anonymity, that salaries and stipends were sometimes paid regularly each month but were also delayed by periods ranging from six weeks to two months.

A Hamas source said salary rates varied and did not exceed 80 percent at best, particularly for leaders and operatives in the Qassam Brigades and at the political level.

Lower percentages were paid to the preaching and social apparatus and other bodies, alongside allocations for activities aimed at supporting the population and what the group calls its popular base.

The source said the lowest rates were paid to government employees at both civilian and military levels, reaching 60 percent at most before declining in recent months to around 35 percent.

Several sources said Hamas continues to pay stipends to the families of its members and leaders killed over decades of its activities, as well as to prisoners and wounded fighters.

They added that the group also supports families whose salaries were cut by the Palestinian Authority, continues to provide social assistance and allocates funds to projects aimed at supporting its popular base, including food aid, water provision and communal kitchens, in coordination with foreign institutions.

Asked how salaries are delivered, Hamas sources said payments are made through tight networks and by hand to avoid Israeli monitoring of electronic wallets and banks.

Worn banknotes and tobacco taxes

As Hamas relies on manual delivery, questions remain over how it secures cash under Israel’s blockade. A Hamas source said the process was complex and could not be disclosed for security reasons.

Local sources outside Hamas said the group depends heavily on traders to obtain cash, alongside its existing cash reserves and revenues from businesses it operates.

One source said Hamas often pays worn banknotes to government employees in particular, and to a lesser extent to Qassam fighters and political figures. This forces recipients to manage on their own as most traders refuse to accept damaged or worn currency.

Hamas has encouraged some small traders, especially fruit and vegetable sellers, to accept such notes in exchange for continued support and access to goods at lower prices.

Another source said Hamas has imposed taxes on certain goods, such as tobacco products, to raise funds, noting that most cigarette traders deal in cash rather than electronic wallets, which many Gaza residents now rely on.

Israeli accusations against Iran

On Dec. 7, Israel accused Iran of supporting what it described as a banking network transferring hundreds of thousands of dollars to Hamas. Israel said the network consisted of Gaza-based money changers residing in Türkiye who exploit the country’s financial infrastructure for what it called terrorist purposes.

According to Israel, the network operated in full cooperation with the Iranian regime, transferring funds to Hamas and its leaders and managing wide ranging economic activity involving receiving money from Iran, storing it and transferring it to Hamas via Türkiye.

Israel published the identities of three individuals, including an official in Hamas’s financial apparatus and two money changers from Gaza, claiming they worked under the direction of Khalil al-Hayya.

Sources familiar with the two men told Asharq Al-Awsat they have lived outside Gaza for many years.

One was known to work with various Palestinian factions and had previously smuggled funds for them, including through tunnels along the Egyptian border, while also operating as a businessman in multiple fields beyond currency exchange.

Hamas sources dismissed the accusations as baseless, saying the group has its own methods for transferring funds.

They said Hamas often faces difficulties moving money from abroad into Gaza, a problem that also affects the West Bank due to Israeli pursuit and Palestinian Authority security pressure, though conditions there are better than in Gaza for transferring funds.

Sources from other Palestinian factions said they are also suffering financial crises and difficulties paying salaries and stipends to their members and leaders.

They said they sometimes distribute food aid and other assistance to help their members and families cope with harsh economic conditions, with most of the support coming through institutions backed by Iran or other parties.


Shadow Battles in Syria: Fighting ISIS, Rebuilding the State 

An aerial photograph shows thousands of people celebrating the first anniversary since the ousting of longtime ruler Bashar al-Assad near The Damascus Sword monument in Umayyad Square, in the Syrian capital Damascus on December 8, 2025. (AFP)
An aerial photograph shows thousands of people celebrating the first anniversary since the ousting of longtime ruler Bashar al-Assad near The Damascus Sword monument in Umayyad Square, in the Syrian capital Damascus on December 8, 2025. (AFP)
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Shadow Battles in Syria: Fighting ISIS, Rebuilding the State 

An aerial photograph shows thousands of people celebrating the first anniversary since the ousting of longtime ruler Bashar al-Assad near The Damascus Sword monument in Umayyad Square, in the Syrian capital Damascus on December 8, 2025. (AFP)
An aerial photograph shows thousands of people celebrating the first anniversary since the ousting of longtime ruler Bashar al-Assad near The Damascus Sword monument in Umayyad Square, in the Syrian capital Damascus on December 8, 2025. (AFP)

At the entrances to Damascus branching off the Mezzeh highway, just before Umayyad Square, young men with a quasi-military appearance line both sides of the road, selling flags and banners for “Liberation Day.”

In narrower streets and at intersections leading deeper into the city, they are met by women in long dresses, some with headscarves pulled halfway across their faces. The women drag one or two children behind them and carry loaves of bread for sale, stacking them openly and thrusting them toward passersby and car windows — unwrapped, exposed to diesel fumes and the dust rising from the rubble encircling the capital.

Selling bread in this manner has gradually become a “profession,” largely female, expanding as poverty deepens. Women queue at bakeries to purchase their ration, resell it for a small margin, then return to the lines, repeating the cycle late into the night.

This scene is not confined to Damascus; it recurs across Syrian cities and regions I visited, from Homs and Idlib to Aleppo. Over time, this female presence has become woven into the landscape of a prolonged crisis, a quiet pillar of daily survival.

Widespread destruction

If women’s exhausted faces and roughened hands are the clearest witnesses to a catastrophe now nearing its fifteenth year, the unrelenting destruction bears equally stark testimony. Entire neighborhoods and suburbs, flattened to the ground, ring Damascus, choking it in dust and debris.

The same gray desolation dominates major cities and their surrounding countryside, stretching across vast expanses of the country. Driving more than 350 kilometers without encountering a single intact tree, neighborhood, or home offers a visceral sense of what over a decade of killing, destruction, and vengeance has left behind.

The scale of devastation reflects not only military confrontations or the superiority of one side, but a deliberate effort to annihilate people and livelihoods, to extinguish even the faintest hope of return. What bombs spared was often burned, looted, or rendered uninhabitable. And yet, returns are taking place slowly, haltingly, through sheer individual persistence.

Only a few enclaves have endured in Damascus and its markets, or beyond in certain towns and districts, some even prospering, driven by sectarian calculations or political and commercial interests, most notably those tied to the production and trafficking of captagon.

A view of Damascus, Syria. (Asharq Al-Awsat)

Damascus: The polished façade

Damascus was preparing for exceptional celebrations marking the first anniversary of Bashar al-Assad’s ouster. Preparations were extensive: stages erected, loudspeakers installed, traffic rerouted, and banners raised proclaiming national unity, “One people... one nation”, and announcing that “the dark era has ended.”

Programs circulated via text messages urging citizens to participate and “celebrate freedom and hope... and complete the story.” But which story? The question reverberates through streets where bread is sold on bare asphalt while victory celebrations unfold.

Here, narratives multiply and diverge, sometimes to the point of contradiction, like neighboring bubbles that coexist without touching. A sharp vertical divide in perspectives remains, recalling 2011, when Syrians split to the brink between supporters and opponents, even as official discourse insists on projecting a seamless image of a new phase.

Silent security battle

Behind the celebratory façade, another battle is underway, which is quieter and more complex. “ISIS, especially the muhajireen [foreign fighters], poses our most serious challenge,” a senior Syrian security source who requested anonymity told Asharq Al-Awsat, noting that arrests and “neutralizations” are carried out regularly.

Another source explained that “security operations are conducted with precision and professionalism. Lists of those affiliated with extremist organizations under the broad ISIS umbrella are already in the hands of the security services.”

He added: “We know them individually. We monitor them closely. The former regime left behind an extremely detailed surveillance system that we continue to rely on.”

I met both sources days before the recent Palmyra incident. When it occurred, it appeared unsurprising; officials and those in sensitive positions had anticipated such scenarios as among several looming security risks, especially after Syria formally joined the counterterrorism coalition.

One source summarized these risks as three simultaneous confrontations: “First, the fight against ISIS and its offshoots, handled with extreme caution because it poses a personal threat to President Ahmed al-Sharaa. Second, the confrontation with the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), which threatens the emerging state and its identity over the long term. Third, a colder, less intense standoff with Israel linked to developments in Sweida.”

In a semi-official assessment, the security source did not rule out that those released from al-Hol camp could become “time bombs,” exploited to destabilize internal security and serve the agendas of extremists rejecting the current transition of power.

Such incidents could also signal abroad that stripping the SDF of its “counterterrorism” duties would be futile, potentially “opening the door to packs of lone wolves.”

Destruction from fighting between the regime forces and opposition is seen in the Yarmuk camp on the outskirts of Damascus. (EPA)

Is a security approach enough?

The challenge confronting the state is not purely a security one, and a strictly securitized approach lacks consensus even within governing circles.

Contrary to those who view ISIS and extremism as a “technical problem” solvable through force alone, a figure close to the political leadership argues that “the core issue lies in absorbing a massive human bloc that spent years outside any normal social framework, without education, stable families, or organized structures of life.”

“The real challenge,” he added, “is integrating them into the idea of the state and rehabilitating them accordingly. Just as these adolescents were once pulled toward a specific form of extremism, today we must work to move them toward a middle ground.”

“If the president says we are leaving a factional phase and entering a state-based one, how does that happen at the grassroots level? Is it merely individual and security-driven, or is it societal as well?” he wondered.

In this light, one observer interpreted al-Sharaa’s statement — “Obey me so long as I obey God among you” — delivered from the Umayyad Mosque on the night of the grand celebration and widely criticized by civil and secular circles, as a message aimed at a different audience: a segment the state seeks to reassure through a religious call to obedience and rejection of rebellion.

If words come easily, lived reality does not.

Security is tightly enforced in major cities, such as Damascus and Aleppo, through heavy deployments and modern technologies, including drones, especially during sensitive periods like mass anniversary celebrations.

Beyond the cities, however, vast rural areas remain largely neglected, marked by immense destruction, extreme poverty, and rampant unemployment. Checkpoints line major inter-provincial roads, but side towns and village alleys are often left to fend for themselves.

Idlib, once cited as an exception for its services and administrative capacity, has lost much of that distinction since liberation. Opening to the rest of Syria exposed the city and its devastated countryside to the demands of ordinary life, revealing governance that had amounted largely to crisis management. That legacy persists even in everyday language: soldiers addressing civilians as “sheikh,” or telling them to “seek God’s help” as shorthand for “move along.”

Between Idlib’s countryside and Aleppo, villages and small towns are known for particular loyalties and affiliations — some far removed from the moderation celebrated on Damascus stages. Their reputations lead drivers to take longer routes considered “safer.”

In this belt, young men, especially the youngest, have long served as fuel for armed factions. In recent years, only Hayat Tahrir al-Sham maintained dominance on the ground.

After the fall of the regime, thousands joined the general security forces or the army, often for lack of alternatives. Many cannot afford to rebuild destroyed homes or recover looted livelihoods; barracks, offering food and shelter, remain preferable to civilian life.

A fabric of clashing identities

These identities crystallized during years of militarization, particularly after 2013, though their social roots run deeper. Today, anyone associated with the new authority is often labeled “Idlibi,” after Idlib — the stronghold of Hayat Tahrir al-Sham for nine years — a term frequently tinged with condescension in Damascus and Aleppo. Understanding the social and economic distinctions among these rural communities helps explain their divergent political and military choices.

Some towns, organized around extended families, land ownership, and later labor migration beginning in the mid-1980s, invested in education and professional paths while maintaining a socially rooted religiosity. These communities had previously experienced nationalist and Arabist currents before Baathist authoritarianism took hold.

Others, smaller towns built around sub-clans, relied on seasonal agriculture and service in the police and security apparatus of the former regime. They welcomed their sons’ joining the Nusra Front when it began recruiting, seeing in it both as an organized military path against Assad and a religious identity long suppressed.

Added to this are vast desert regions governed by tribal structures and shifting systems of mutual aid.

Though all are Arab Sunnis, their behaviors, loyalties, and alignments differed, shaping how radical factions penetrated some communities while failing in others, often setting one group against another.

Syrian security forces detain a suspect during an anti-ISIS operation in the Idlib countryside on December 1. (Syrian Interior Ministry)

Idlib and the keys to Damascus

When security officials say today they know extremists “one by one,” they rely partly on Hayat Tahrir al-Sham’s security apparatus and its accumulated knowledge of radical factions it fought in recent years, such as Jund al-Aqsa and the al-Qaeda-aligned Hurras al-Din, along with informant networks.

Idlib remains, to a significant extent, a secure stronghold holding key levers of power. Courts, administrative bodies, and civil registries still operate under the “Sharia courts” established in mid-2013, unlike other regions, especially Damascus, where transactions are centralized.

Sources identify three main recruitment pathways used by ISIS and its offshoots: ideological recruitment, the fastest and most effective, especially among youth who embraced extremism and have yet to absorb Syria’s rapid changes; recruitment driven by money and revenge amid pervasive poverty and lost status; and recruitment among foreign fighters, embittered by abandonment and with little left to lose.

The emerging state and the ‘Sahwa’ model

When President al-Sharaa returned from Washington, he carried a daunting mandate: to “confront and dismantle terrorist networks” linked to remnants of ISIS, Iran’s Revolutionary Guard, Hezbollah, and Hamas, according to US envoy to Syria Tom Barrack.

While Israel has targeted Hezbollah in Lebanon and Hamas in Gaza, Syria must contend with their residual networks. Yet the greater challenge remains ISIS and its offshoots, fighters who, until recently, were close “brothers in arms” to Hayat Tahrir al-Sham.

As observers await the form this confrontation will take, particularly in the absence of a unified army with a clear doctrine, Washington’s earlier experiment in post-Saddam Iraq looms large: the Sunni-on-Sunni “Awakening” (Sahwa).

The Sahwa rested on what an informed Iraqi source described as a “coalition of the harmed” from al-Qaeda, centered in Anbar province with its Sunni Arab identity and traditional religiosity. A similar model could emerge in Syria through an alliance of communities damaged by ISIS in the north and northeast, led by the emerging state that wants to fight extremism.

The Iraqi source, who closely followed the Sahwa’s rise and subsequent decline under then Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki, noted that tribes around Ramadi, especially al-Bourisha, al-Buallwan, al-Bou Fahd, and to a lesser extent al-Dulaim, formed the backbone of the fight after al-Qaeda devastated their trade and social fabric.

Syria's interim president, Ahmed al-Sharaa, greets people as he attends celebrations marking the first anniversary of the ousting of former President Bashar al-Assad in Damascus, Syria, Monday, Dec. 8, 2025. (AP)

Though some were coerced into allegiance, clashes never fully ceased, culminating in atrocities such as the massacre of the al-Bu Nimr tribe, where nearly 2,000 men were executed. A Syrian parallel is the al-Shaitat tribe, which resisted ISIS and suffered one of the largest massacres, with around 1,800 young men killed.

Those who joined the Sahwa were required to publicly renounce al-Qaeda and integrate into security forces coordinated with US troops, in hopes of transforming that tribal bloc into a political actor.

From arms to politics

The Iraqi source highlighted a central lesson: despite the Sahwa’s security successes, it failed to transition into meaningful political participation. When its leaders entered elections, they achieved little representation and failed to build durable popular support.

That failure mirrors Syria’s core dilemma today: the collective transition from a factional, militarized reality confined to limited geography toward a state defined by broader political and administrative principles — and, militarily, by the monopoly of force within a single national army.

Between a woman selling bread on a street corner, a young man dancing in a public square, and institutions struggling to impose order and define the state, Syria appears as a country of overlapping bubbles: a glossy façade prepared for celebration, like a carefully designed postcard, and beneath it a fragile social and security depth whose battles remain unresolved.


Iraq’s Dreams of Wheat Independence Dashed by Water Crisis 

A drone view shows a circular wheat field in the desert of Basra, Iraq, November 27, 2025. (Reuters)
A drone view shows a circular wheat field in the desert of Basra, Iraq, November 27, 2025. (Reuters)
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Iraq’s Dreams of Wheat Independence Dashed by Water Crisis 

A drone view shows a circular wheat field in the desert of Basra, Iraq, November 27, 2025. (Reuters)
A drone view shows a circular wheat field in the desert of Basra, Iraq, November 27, 2025. (Reuters)

Iraqi wheat farmer Ma'an al-Fatlawi has long depended on the nearby Euphrates River to feed his fields near the city of Najaf. But this year, those waters, which made the Fertile Crescent a cradle of ancient civilization 10,000 years ago, are drying up, and he sees few options.

"Drilling wells is not successful in our land, because the water is saline," al-Fatlawi said, as he stood by an irrigation canal near his parched fields awaiting the release of his allotted water supply.

A push by Iraq - historically among the Middle East's biggest wheat importers - to guarantee food security by ensuring wheat production covers the country's needs has led to three successive annual surpluses of the staple grain.

But those hard-won advances are now under threat as the driest year in modern history and record-low water levels in the Tigris and Euphrates rivers have reduced planting and could slash the harvest by up to 50% this season.

"Iraq is facing one of the most severe droughts that has been observed in decades," the UN Food and Agriculture Organization's Iraq representative Salah El Hajj Hassan told Reuters.

VULNERABLE TO NATURE AND NEIGHBORS

The crisis is laying bare Iraq's vulnerability.

A largely desert nation, Iraq ranks fifth globally for climate risk, according to the UN's Global Environment Outlook. Average temperatures in Iraq have risen nearly half a degree Celsius per decade since 2000 and could climb by up to 5.6 C by the end of the century compared to the period before industrialization, according to the International Energy Agency. Rainfall is projected to decline.

But Iraq is also at the mercy of its neighbors for 70% of its water supply. And Türkiye and Iran have been using upstream dams to take a greater share of the region's shared resource.

The FAO says the diminishing amount of water that has trickled down to Iraq is the biggest factor behind the current crisis, which has forced Baghdad to introduce rationing.

Iraq's water reserves have plunged from 60 billion cubic meters in 2020 to less than 4 billion today, said El Hajj Hassan, who expects wheat production this season to drop by 30% to 50%.

"Rain-fed and irrigated agriculture are directly affected nationwide," he said.

EFFORTS TO END IMPORT DEPENDENCE UNDER THREAT

To wean the country off its dependence on imports, Iraq's government has in recent years paid for high-yield seeds and inputs, promoted modern irrigation and desert farming to expand cultivation, and subsidized grain purchases to offer farmers more than double global wheat prices.

It is a plan that, though expensive, has boosted strategic wheat reserves to over 6 million metric tons in some seasons, overwhelming Iraq's silo capacity. The government, which purchased around 5.1 million tons of the 2025 harvest, said in September that those reserves could meet up to a year of demand.

Others, however, including Harry Istepanian - a water expert and founder of Iraq Climate Change Center - now expect imports to rise again, putting the country at greater risk of higher food prices with knock-on effects for trade and government budgets.

"Iraq's water and food security crisis is no longer just an environmental problem; it has immediate economic and security spillovers," Istepanian told Reuters.

A preliminary FAO forecast anticipates wheat import needs for the 2025/26 marketing year to increase to about 2.4 million tons.

Global wheat markets are currently oversupplied, offering cheaper options, but Iraq could once again face price volatility.

A person walks along the edge of uncultivated farmland on the outskirts of Najaf, where dry soil stretches across fields left unplanted due to water shortages, in Najaf, Iraq, November 29, 2025. (Reuters)

Iraq's trade ministry did not respond to a request for comment on the likelihood of increased imports.

In response to the crisis, the ministry of agriculture capped river-irrigated wheat at 1 million dunams in the 2025/26 season - half last season's level - and mandated modern irrigation techniques including drip and sprinkler systems to replace flood irrigation through open canals, which loses water through evaporation and seepage.

A dunam is a measurement of area roughly equivalent to a quarter acre.

The ministry is allocating 3.5 million dunams in desert areas using groundwater. That too is contingent on the use of modern irrigation.

"The plan was implemented in two phases," said Mahdi Dhamad al-Qaisi, an advisor to the agriculture minister. "Both require modern irrigation."

Rice cultivation, meanwhile, which is far more water-intensive than wheat, was banned nationwide.

RURAL LIVELIHOODS AT RISK

One ton of wheat production in Iraq requires about 1,100 cubic meters of water, said Ammar Abdul-Khaliq, head of the Wells and Groundwater Authority in southern Iraq. Pivoting to more dependence on wells to replace river water is risky.

"If water extraction continues without scientific study, groundwater reserves will decline," he said.

Basra aquifers, he said, have already fallen by three to five meters.

Groundwater irrigation systems are also expensive due to the required infrastructure like sprinklers and concrete basins. That presents a further economic challenge to rural Iraqis, who make up around 30% of the population.

Some 170,000 people have already been displaced in rural areas due to water scarcity, the FAO's El Hajj Hassan said.

"This is not a matter of only food security," he said. "It's worse when we look at it from the perspective of livelihoods."

At his farm in Najaf, al-Fatlawi is now experiencing that first-hand, having cut his wheat acreage to a fifth of its normal level this season and laid off all but two of his 10 workers.

"We rely on river water," he said.