Turkey and the Lesser of Two Evils in Syria

Travelers cross a border between Syria and Turkey on April 18. (AFP)
Travelers cross a border between Syria and Turkey on April 18. (AFP)
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Turkey and the Lesser of Two Evils in Syria

Travelers cross a border between Syria and Turkey on April 18. (AFP)
Travelers cross a border between Syria and Turkey on April 18. (AFP)

If Turkey were given the choice between normalizing relations with the Syrian regime or accepting the establishment of Kurdish state in northern Syrian and on its southern border, then it will opt for the first option as "the lesser of two evils."

This was the gist of Turkish Foreign Minister Mevlut Cavusoglu's remarks last week, when he said that similar to what happened in Afghanistan, Turkey would be willing to work with the regime, without recognizing its legitimacy.

The "lesser of two evils" scenario has been witnessed before in Syria.

When ISIS swept through large swathes of the country and Iraq, western countries eased their push for the overthrow of the Syrian regime, because they believed that it would be replaced by the terrorist organization. This led some countries to stop supporting opposition factions, especially Islamic ones, and to express "concern over the resounding victory of the opposition."

Some observers even go so far as to say that then US President Barack Obama held back from striking Syria in late 2013 because he "feared for the regime, rather than fear the regime.".

Moreover, Russia intervened militarily in Syria in 2015 because it wanted to "preserve the Syrian state" and prevent its fall in the hands of ISIS, which was practically on Damascus' doorstep. Countries reportedly supported, or did not oppose, Russia's intervention at the time because they feared the "substitute" or the "lesser of two evils".

Israel was also confronted with the lesser of two evils: Iran and Hezbollah's strategic entrenchment on its northern border and the "fall of the regime" or coordinating with Russia to "revive the regime". It opted for the second choice and receiving Russian cover to cracking down on Iran and imposing its "red lines" on the Tehran-Baghdad-Damascus-Beirut route. The United States supported Israel through the ongoing deployment of its forces in northeastern Syria. It too does not want Syria to fall in the hands of Iran - "the greatest evil".

As for Arab countries, some opted from the very beginning of the crisis to stand with Damascus. Others were encouraged by Tehran's expanded role and Ankara's incursions in Syria to "normalize" relations with Damascus. We are now speaking of an "Arab role" that favors the survival of the Syrian government and legitimizes it in the confrontation against the "new Persians and Ottomans" - again here opting for the lesser of two evils.

A new Turkish approach in Syria is significant due to its timing. Ankara has made numerous concessions in Syria over the past decade. It started off by demanding the ouster of the regime, before now agreeing to it playing a role at the beginning or end of the transition. It then signed de-escalation agreements and carried out exchanges sponsored by Russia and Iran.

Ankara then abandoned eastern Aleppo in exchange for breaking up the prospects of the emergence of a Kurdish state between the eastern and western Euphrates in late 2016. In early 2018, it made concessions to Moscow while it carried out its incursion in Afrin in northern Aleppo, and preventing the spread of the Kurdish "entity" to the Mediterranean. It later agreed to Moscow and Tehran arranging security meetings between head of Syria's National Security Bureau Ali Mamlouk and chief of Turkish intelligence Hakan Fidan.

Fidan and Mamlouk met in early 2020. Their meeting was preceded by security meetings in Syria's Latakia and in the Iranian capital. The meetings revealed a lot of points of agreement and disagreement. Ankara was forced to readjust its position in wake of its growing concern over Washington's support to the Kurdish Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) and separatist leanings. This pushed Turkey to coordinate with Damascus despite its belief that the latter had in 2011 paved the way for the Kurds to expand their influence to spite Turkey and pressure it.

At the time, Moscow proposed a return to the 1998 Adana agreement that allowed Turkey to infiltrate five kilometers into northern Syria to crack down on the Kurdistan Workers' Party (PKK). Damascus, in return, wanted concessions from the "Turkish occupation" forces in Idlib, Aleppo and northern Syria.

The circumstances were not "ripe" at the time: Moscow and Ankara were coordinating in northwestern Syria, Washington and Moscow were coordinating in northeastern Syria and Arab countries wanted to compete with Turkey in Syria.

Cavusoglu's recent remarks were also made during now different circumstances:

First, Russian-American coordination collapsed due to the war in Ukraine. US National Security Council Coordinator for the Middle East and North Africa Brett McGurk's plan to pressure the Kurds in return for Russia persuading Damascus to negotiate with the "separatists" and agree to a negotiated settlement also collapsed.

Second, the American deployment will persist in Syria during Joe Biden's term, especially in wake of the chaotic US troop withdrawal from Afghanistan. The American deployment is seen as a victory against ISIS. The deployment is not open-ended, but it is still there.

Third, Arab countries that were seeking normalization with Damascus to compete with Ankara, are now looking for points of interest with Turkey. Syria may be one arena of interest and reports have spoken of possible Turkish-Arab construction projects in Syria.

Is Ankara ready to "cooperate" with Damascus to prevent the rise of Kurdish state that will pose a threat to Syrian, Iranian and Turkish national security?

Cavusoglu's statements and the prospects of a Syrian-Turkish security meeting are significant, especially if they are viewed in wake of the Turkey's drone strikes against leading Kurdish figures in northeastern Syria and its new operation in northwestern Iraq.



From 1948 to Now, a Palestinian Woman in Gaza Recounts a Life of Displacement 

Ghalia Abu Moteir, whose family fled what is now Israel during the 1948 war that surrounded its creation, shelters from the current war in a tent in Khan Younis, Gaza Strip, after being displaced from her home in Rafah, Wednesday, May 14, 2025. (AP)
Ghalia Abu Moteir, whose family fled what is now Israel during the 1948 war that surrounded its creation, shelters from the current war in a tent in Khan Younis, Gaza Strip, after being displaced from her home in Rafah, Wednesday, May 14, 2025. (AP)
TT

From 1948 to Now, a Palestinian Woman in Gaza Recounts a Life of Displacement 

Ghalia Abu Moteir, whose family fled what is now Israel during the 1948 war that surrounded its creation, shelters from the current war in a tent in Khan Younis, Gaza Strip, after being displaced from her home in Rafah, Wednesday, May 14, 2025. (AP)
Ghalia Abu Moteir, whose family fled what is now Israel during the 1948 war that surrounded its creation, shelters from the current war in a tent in Khan Younis, Gaza Strip, after being displaced from her home in Rafah, Wednesday, May 14, 2025. (AP)

As a 4-year-old, Ghalia Abu Moteir was driven to live in a tent in Khan Younis after her family fled their home in what’s now Israel, escaping advancing Israeli forces. Seventy-seven years later, she is now back in a tent under the bombardment of Israel’s campaign in Gaza.

On Thursday, Palestinians across the Middle East commemorated the anniversary of the “Nakba” -- Arabic for “the Catastrophe” -- when some 700,000 Palestinians were expelled by Israeli forces or fled their homes in what is now Israel before and during the 1948 war that surrounded its creation.

Abu Moteir’s life traces the arc of Palestinians’ exile and displacement from that war to the current one. Israel’s 19-month-old campaign has flattened much of Gaza, killed more than 53,000 people, driven almost the entire population of 2.3 million from their homes and threatens to push them into famine.

“Today we’re in a bigger Nakba than the Nakba that we saw before,” the 81-year-old Abu Moteir said, speaking outside the tent where she lives with her surviving sons and daughters and 45 grandchildren.

“Our whole life is terror, terror. Day and night, there’s missiles and warplanes overhead. We’re not living. If we were dead, it would be more merciful,” she said.

Palestinians fear that Israel’s ultimate goal is to drive them from the Gaza Strip completely. Israel says its campaign aims to destroy Hamas after its Oct. 7, 2023, attack in which gunmen killed some 1,200 people in southern Israel and abducted around 250 others.

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has said that after Israel defeats Hamas, it will continue to control Gaza and will encourage Palestinians to leave “voluntarily.”

Ghalia Abu Moteir, whose family fled what is now Israel during the 1948 war that surrounded its creation, shelters from the current war in a tent in Khan Younis, Gaza Strip, after being displaced from her home in Rafah, Wednesday, May 14, 2025. (AP)

From tent city to tent city

The Gaza Strip was born out of the Nakba. Some 200,000 of the 1948 refugees were driven into the small coastal area, and more than 70% of Gaza’s current population are their descendants. Gaza’s borders were set in an armistice between Israel and Egypt, which along with other Arab countries had attacked after Israel declared its independence.

Abu Moteir doesn’t remember much from her home village, Wad Hunayn, a small hamlet thick with citrus groves just southeast of Tel Aviv. Her parents fled with her and her three brothers as the nascent forces of Israel moved into the area, fighting local Palestinian groups and expelling some communities.

“We left only with the clothes we had on us, no ID, no nothing,” Abu Moteir said. She remembers walking along the Mediterranean coast amid gunfire. Her father, she said, put the children behind him, trying to protect them.

They walked 75 kilometers (45 miles) to Khan Younis, where they settled in a tent city that sprang up to house thousands of refugees. There, UNRWA, a new UN agency created to care for them – temporarily, it was thought at the time – provided food and supplies, while the Gaza Strip came under Egyptian rule.

After two years in a tent, her family moved further south to Rafah and built a home. Abu Moteir’s father died of illness in the early 1950s. When Israeli forces stormed through Gaza to invade Egypt’s Sinai in 1956, the family fled again, to central Gaza, before returning to Rafah. In the years after the 1967 Middle East War, when Israel occupied Gaza and the West Bank, Abu Moteir’s mother and brothers left for Jordan.

Abu Moteir, by that time married with children, stayed behind.

“I witnessed all the wars,” she said. “But not one is like this war.”

A year ago, her family fled Rafah as Israeli troops invaded the city. They now live in the sprawling tent city of Muwasi on the coast outside Khan Younis. An airstrike killed one of her sons, leaving behind three daughters, a son and his pregnant wife, who has since given birth. Three of Abu Moteir’s grandchildren have also been killed.

Throughout the war, UNRWA has led a massive aid effort by humanitarian groups to keep Palestinians alive. But for the past 10 weeks, Israel has barred all food, fuel, medicines and other supplies from entering Gaza, saying it aims to force Hamas to release 58 remaining hostages, fewer than half believed alive.

Israel also says Hamas has been siphoning off aid in large quantities, a claim the UN denies. Israel has banned UNRWA, saying it has been infiltrated by Hamas, which the agency denies.

Hunger and malnutrition in the territory have spiraled as food stocks run out.

“Here in Muwasi, there’s no food or water,” said Abu Moteir. “The planes strike us. Our children are thrown (dead) in front of us.”

Ghalia Abu Moteir, whose family fled what is now Israel during the 1948 war that surrounded its creation, shelters from the current war in a tent in Khan Younis, Gaza, after being displaced from her home in Rafah, Wednesday, May 14, 2025. (AP)

Devastation tests Palestinians' will to stay

Generations in Gaza since 1948 have been raised on the idea of “sumoud,” Arabic for “resilience,” the need to stand strong for their land and their right to return to their old homes inside Israel. Israel has refused to allow refugees back, saying a mass return would leave the country without a Jewish majority.

While most Palestinians say they don’t want to leave Gaza, the destruction wreaked by Israeli forces is shaking that resilience among some.

“I understand that ... There is no choice here. To stay alive, you’d have to leave Gaza,” said Amjad Shawa, director of the Palestinian Non-Governmental Organizations Network in Gaza, though he said he would never leave.

He dismissed Netanyahu’s claims that any migration would be voluntary. “Israel made Gaza not suitable for living for decades ahead,” he said.

Noor Abu Mariam, a 21-year-old in Gaza City, grew up knowing the story of her grandparents, who were expelled by Israeli forces from their town outside the present-day Israeli city of Ashkelon in 1948.

Her family was forced to flee their home in Gaza City early in the war. They returned during a two-month ceasefire earlier this year. Their area is now under Israeli evacuation orders, and they fear they will be forced to move again.

Her family is thinking of leaving if the border opens, Abu Mariam said.

“I could be resilient if there were life necessities available like food and clean water and houses,” she said. “Starvation is what will force us to migrate.”

Kheloud al-Laham, a 23-year-old sheltering in Deir al-Balah, said she was “adamant” about staying.

“It’s the land of our fathers and our grandfathers for thousands of years,” she said. “It was invaded and occupied over the course of centuries, so is it reasonable to leave it that easily?”

“What do we return to?” Abu Moteir remembers the few times she was able to leave Gaza over the decades of Israeli occupation.

Once, she went on a group visit to Jerusalem. As their bus passed through Israel, the driver called out the names of the erased Palestinian towns they passed – Isdud, near what’s now the Israeli city of Ashdod; Majdal, now Ashkelon.

They passed not far from where Wadi Hunayn once stood. “But we didn’t get off the bus,” she said.

She knows Palestinians who worked in the Israeli town of Ness Ziona, which stands on what had been Wadi Hunayn. They told her nothing is left of the Palestinian town but one or two houses and a mosque, since converted to a synagogue.

She used to dream of returning to Wadi Hunayn. Now she just wants to go back to Rafah.

But most of Rafah has been leveled, including her family home, she said.

“What do we return to? To the rubble?”