The End of a Forced Coexistence: Arab Tribes Turn Against the Syrian Democratic Forces in Eastern Syria

Armed clashes between Arab tribal fighters and the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) and the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) in the Manbij area of northern Syria in September 2023 (Getty)
Armed clashes between Arab tribal fighters and the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) and the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) in the Manbij area of northern Syria in September 2023 (Getty)
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The End of a Forced Coexistence: Arab Tribes Turn Against the Syrian Democratic Forces in Eastern Syria

Armed clashes between Arab tribal fighters and the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) and the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) in the Manbij area of northern Syria in September 2023 (Getty)
Armed clashes between Arab tribal fighters and the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) and the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) in the Manbij area of northern Syria in September 2023 (Getty)

In Syria’s vast northeastern areas, a brittle arrangement has for years held together an uneasy coexistence between the Arab tribes and the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF). But today, that arrangement appears closer than ever to unraveling, as mounting grievances and shifting regional dynamics converge to end what many tribal leaders now call a “forced coexistence.”

Over the past months, prominent Arab tribal leaders have stepped up their denunciations of the SDF, accusing it of discrimination, repression, and siphoning off the region’s natural wealth. These tensions have erupted into public declarations, including a striking statement in early July, in which elders from major tribes in Deir ez-Zor, Raqqa, and al-Hasakah demanded that the US-led international coalition end its support for the SDF.

From Tactical Alliance to Deep Estrangement

When the SDF first emerged in 2015 - formed largely by the Kurdish People’s Protection Units (YPG) but incorporating Arab and Christian militias - many Arab tribes regarded it as a necessary partner against ISIS. After all, the militant group had rampaged through tribal lands, massacring communities and imposing draconian rule. For a time, this partnership worked: from 2015 to 2017, tribes like the Shammar, Baggara, and parts of the Aqeedat fought shoulder-to-shoulder with Kurdish forces in a shared struggle against ISIS.

But as the warfronts cooled, new frictions emerged. Arab leaders began to accuse the SDF of marginalizing them politically and economically, imposing ideologically charged school curricula, conscripting young men and boys, and monopolizing oil and wheat revenues.

By 2018 and 2019, large protests against mandatory conscription and perceived ethnic bias erupted across the region. Still, the SDF retained an aura of indispensability, its American backing and battlefield record insulating it from more serious challenges.
Today, that insulation is wearing thin.

The most recent wave of anger began in June 2025, when an SDF fighter shot and killed 11-year-old Farid al-Hureish in the town of Abu Hardoub. Days later, another boy, Ali al-Awni, died after SDF forces opened fire as he gathered wheat near a checkpoint. Such incidents are far from isolated. Local monitors and human rights groups have documented kidnappings, forced recruitment of minors through the Revolutionary Youth organization, and heavy financial levies on families seeking exemptions from military service.

In a recent interview, Nasser Hammoud al-Faraj, a prominent sheikh from the Boushaban tribe, said these abuses had created a “boiling point” across the region: “The people have lived for years under repression, exclusion, and humiliation,” he said. “This is not a foreign agenda; our tribes themselves demanded this declaration.”

Indeed, the July statement signed by 14 tribal dignitaries did not mince words. It accused the SDF of “systematic oppression,” destabilization, and theft of resources. Addressed to the US government, the declaration called for an end to military and political support for the SDF and for Syria’s central government to reassert sovereignty over the entire northeast.

Though much Western coverage portrays the SDF as a unified Kurdish force, it is in fact a complex coalition. Alongside the YPG, it includes Arab formations such as the Sanadid Forces - historically loyal to the Shammar tribe - and the Deir ez-Zor Military Council, which incorporated Arab fighters from the Aqeedat and Baggara. Yet these same tribal networks are now fracturing.

A dramatic illustration came in 2023, when the SDF arrested Ahmed al-Khabil (Abu Khawla), leader of the Deir ez-Zor Military Council. That move shattered remaining loyalty among many Arab factions. “From that moment, the last shreds of trust began to disappear,” says al-Faraj.

To complicate matters further, some tribes and sub-clans remain aligned with the SDF, while others are in contact with Damascus. Even within a single tribe, families may be divided: some serving in SDF structures, others quietly supporting the Syrian government, and still others advocating autonomy or neutrality.

This tangle of loyalties is not new. For generations, tribal allegiances have shifted according to local interests, personal rivalries, and broader geopolitical currents. But according to tribal leaders, the balance is tipping decisively away from cooperation with the SDF.

While recent tribal declarations have emphasized peaceful solutions, the language has also grown more menacing. Sheikh al-Faraj said plainly that if diplomatic avenues fail, tribes may pursue military action: “We do not seek conflict for its own sake,” he said. “But we cannot accept the occupation of our lands. We will act if necessary, with our own forces and with others who share our vision.”

To that end, tribal networks have quietly reorganized self-defense groups and explored links with Damascus. While the SDF still controls the bulk of the region militarily, the Syrian government has positioned itself as a potential guarantor of tribal rights and national unity.

In the past year, official Syrian media - long restrained in its references to the SDF - has begun openly condemning it as an occupying force. Even Governor Ghassan al-Sayyed Ahmad of Deir ez-Zor, typically cautious in public remarks, confirmed that Damascus retains military options: “If negotiations fail,” he warned in late June, “we have three fully prepared divisions ready to intervene.”

Strategic Calculations: Damascus, Washington, and Ankara

For the United States, this tribal rupture represents a profound dilemma. The SDF has been Washington’s main counterterrorism partner against ISIS. US officials, including Special Envoy Thomas Barrack, have repeatedly stressed that their cooperation is based on combating extremism rather than endorsing any project of Kurdish autonomy. But tribal grievances are testing this posture.

While the Biden administration has so far avoided any direct condemnation of the SDF, it has privately urged Kurdish commanders to moderate their policies. According to multiple regional sources, US diplomats have warned that continued abuses could undermine the entire anti-ISIS coalition and trigger Turkish or Syrian intervention.

Türkiye, for its part, has consistently opposed any Kurdish-led administration along its border. Turkish leaders have threatened new incursions if the SDF attempts to formalize autonomy or establish closer ties with the PKK. Analysts believe that any large-scale tribal uprising would likely draw tacit Turkish support, especially if it further weakens Kurdish positions.

To contain the crisis, the SDF has resorted to tactical concessions. In the aftermath of the 2023 clashes, it released waves of detainees, some of whom were arrested for allegedly supporting ISIS, others simply for joining tribal protests. The releases continued sporadically into mid-2025, culminating in a large-scale exchange in April: 140 SDF captives for 100 prisoners held by Syrian government forces.

While these deals have bought time, they have not erased deep resentment. Many tribes now insist that only the full restoration of Syrian state authority can bring stability.

Beyond military options, Arab tribes have begun constructing new political frameworks. In April, tribal elites announced the creation of the “Council for Cooperation and Coordination in Jazira and the Euphrates,” aimed at unifying tribal voices against what they called SDF “hegemony.” In founding statements, council leaders vowed to reject any attempt by the SDF to claim representation of Arab communities in negotiations with Damascus or in international forums.

This reflects a broader evolution in tribal political consciousness. Where once many leaders accepted limited accommodation with the SDF, they now see prolonged Kurdish-led rule as an existential threat to Arab identity, economic rights, and local governance.

The northeastern region is a mosaic. In Deir ez-Zor and Raqqa, Arabs form overwhelming majorities, organized in centuries-old confederations like the Aqeedat, Baggara, and Jubur. In al-Hasakah, the picture is more mixed: Arabs dominate much of the countryside, while Kurds are concentrated in urban centers such as Qamishli and Ras al-Ain. Christian Assyrian and Syriac communities add further complexity, as do smaller minorities of Turkmen, Circassians, and Armenians.

Any future political arrangement - whether federal, autonomous, or unitary - will have to balance these identities. The head of the Research Unit at the London-based Abaad Center for Strategic Studies, Syrian researcher Firas Faham, said: “The region is a dormant volcano. If there is no comprehensive settlement, conflict is inevitable.”

End of the Era of Forced Coexistence

In recent weeks, this metaphorical volcano has rumbled ever louder. Syrian state media and official statements now refer openly to “the occupation” by SDF forces. Behind closed doors, discussions are underway among Damascus, Moscow, and even Ankara about a possible reconfiguration of control.

Mudar Hammoud al-Assad, chairman of the Supreme Council of Syrian Tribes and Clans, told Asharq al-Awsat that the SDF’s options are narrowing: “After the American envoy clearly stated that the only legitimate interlocutor is the Syrian government, the SDF is exposed. They may face military action with tacit American and Turkish approval.”

Even if open war does not break out, tribal consensus against the SDF has never been stronger. What once was a tactical alliance, born of necessity in the struggle against ISIS, has become a marriage of deep resentment.

Despite the historical differences among the tribes, the growing resentment over marginalization, arbitrary arrests, and other grievances appears to have unified a tribal discourse demanding the return of the Syrian Army. Options remain suspended between negotiations and military confrontation, especially in light of official Syrian statements about the readiness of government forces.

This escalation places the international coalition in a delicate balancing act between supporting its ally, the Syrian Democratic Forces - whose local legitimacy is increasingly contested - and responding to tribal pressures warning of a potential explosion of unrest, something Washington does not want and is actively trying to prevent.



Bandar Abbas, Iran’s Trade Hub on Hormuz Thrust to Frontline of US War

Fishermen check their nets and small boats on the seashore in the port city of Bandar Abbas, in southern Iran on August 10, 2026. (AFP)
Fishermen check their nets and small boats on the seashore in the port city of Bandar Abbas, in southern Iran on August 10, 2026. (AFP)
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Bandar Abbas, Iran’s Trade Hub on Hormuz Thrust to Frontline of US War

Fishermen check their nets and small boats on the seashore in the port city of Bandar Abbas, in southern Iran on August 10, 2026. (AFP)
Fishermen check their nets and small boats on the seashore in the port city of Bandar Abbas, in southern Iran on August 10, 2026. (AFP)

With a long shoreline on the Strait of Hormuz, Iran's southern trade hub of Bandar Abbas has found itself at the frontlines of the war with the United States, with residents struggling to revive livelihoods battered by months of fighting.

Like elsewhere in Iran, economic strain has squeezed households since US-Israeli strikes triggered the Middle East war on February 28. But unlike much of the country, the port city of around half a million people has remained exposed to fighting even after an April 8 ceasefire brought relief elsewhere.

But despite a lull in hostilities in July, residents still feel squeezed. Saeed Tajik, 42, used to work at a shipyard before losing his job and turning to driving a taxi.

"The prices of housing and food have become extremely high. Almost all the basics -- rice, yoghurt, and oil -- have doubled," said Tajik.

Fuel shortages have long been common in southern Iran, where authorities restrict supplies in an effort to curb widespread fuel smuggling.

But now, "the queues have become longer ... it happens that we wait in the long line for fuel only to get told 'there is none' upon arriving," Tajik said as he drove past a station where motorists waited under the punishing summer heat.

Hormuz has emerged as a central flashpoint after an April ceasefire and June framework deal failed to resolve disagreements between Washington and Tehran over the future management of the strait.

During the war, US strikes hit bridges, highways and railway infrastructure around Bandar Abbas until mid-July, in what analysts saw as attempts to cut off the city and disrupt Iranian military logistics in the south.

- 'Nothing left' -

Inside the city, under a towering concrete statue of two armed men with their arms trained towards Hormuz waters, economic strains play out in long queues snaking outside petrol stations and soaring prices squeezing shoppers in local markets.

The city's repeatedly hit airport remained largely closed until August 15, leaving travelers facing arduous road journeys, sometimes combined with flights and boat crossings.

Outside the city, construction crews still toil under the sweltering summer sun to repair the Gachin bridge, split by a US strike, as cars rumble along a dusty detour below.

Along the waterfront, traditional wooden vessels known as lenjes sit moored alongside fishing and commercial boats, part of a centuries-old trading network linking southern Iran with Arab states across the Gulf.

Arash Tondro, 45, used his lenj to carry Iranian fresh and dried fruit to the United Arab Emirates and return with household goods and other imports.

"My income dropped to zero at the beginning of the war," said Tondro, who later rerouted some trade through Oman's Khasab port as regional seaways were disrupted and "many of the lenjes were hit by drones".

After the UAE suspended trade with Iran on Tuesday following a missile attack on a ship that Tehran denied carrying out, Tondro said he was again unsure how his work would be impacted.

"People in the south mostly rely on trade or fishing. If you take the sea and trade away from them, there is practically nothing left. We don't have agriculture here; whatever there is comes from the sea," he said.

- 'No sales' -

As night falls and August's oppressive heat begins to ease, fish vendors set up along a busy street, laying out shark, tuna and shrimp as the smell of the day's catch hangs in the humid air.

Among them is 22-year-old Anoush Mallah, who recently moved onto the street after soaring rents forced him to close his shop in one of the city's bazaars.

"Business has been terrible since the war started. There are no sales, it's very weak," he told AFP.

"People are short of money. The fishermen aren't going fishing either."

Many fishermen around Bandar Abbas only began returning to sea in recent weeks, after months ashore for fear of being caught in the crossfire of US-Iran fighting.

Diplomatic efforts have so far failed to end the war. For Mallah, the uncertainty only adds to the strain.

"Let it (the war) start and get some result; right now, we're just left in limbo," he said.


The Ethiopian Dam Dispute and Egypt’s ‘Right to Self-Defense’

Egyptian Foreign Minister Badr Abdelatty. Photo: Foreign Ministry
Egyptian Foreign Minister Badr Abdelatty. Photo: Foreign Ministry
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The Ethiopian Dam Dispute and Egypt’s ‘Right to Self-Defense’

Egyptian Foreign Minister Badr Abdelatty. Photo: Foreign Ministry
Egyptian Foreign Minister Badr Abdelatty. Photo: Foreign Ministry

Over the past two weeks, Egypt has repeatedly stressed its right to prevent any actions by Addis Ababa on the Nile River that could harm its water interests, stressing that it possesses the “right to self-defense” over Ethiopia’s Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD).

According to experts who spoke to Asharq Al-Awsat, Egypt’s signaling means that it “will not hesitate to use all legitimate means to safeguard its water security.”

They explained that the message is a stern warning to Ethiopia and suggests that Cairo is seeking to shift from a policy of protesting Ethiopian measures to preventive deterrence, aimed at stopping the establishment of a new status quo on the Nile.

New Egyptian Warning

Egyptian Foreign Minister Badr Abdelatty said that “Egypt will not allow the construction of additional dams ... that affect its water interests,” stressing Cairo’s commitment to a legally binding agreement that guarantees its water rights.

In a television interview on Wednesday evening, Abdelatty said that Egypt does not oppose African countries’ right to development, noting Cairo’s participation in dam and infrastructure projects in several Nile Basin states. However, he stressed the need to balance the right to development with the rights of downstream countries.

He also underscored Egypt’s commitment to protecting its water interests. “We have the right to self-defense to protect our interests and water security,” said the minister. “We will not accept any agreement regarding the Nile River unless it is legally binding,” he reiterated.

Mohamed Hegazy, a member of the Egyptian Council for Foreign Affairs and a former assistant foreign minister, says the right of self-defense is protected under international law after all peaceful means have been exhausted.

According to Hegazy, the core message is that Cairo still prefers agreement and negotiation, but it no longer accepts using negotiations to impose a fait accompli.

He argued that the most significant aspect of Abdelatty’s statements is that they send three simultaneous messages - Rejection of unilateral measures, rejection of additional dams, and insistence on the right of self-defense to protect water security.

Hussein El-Behairy, an African affairs expert at the National Center for Middle East Studies, said the minister’s recent statements reaffirm Egypt’s right to defend its historical and water rights in the Nile by whatever means the Egyptian state deems appropriate to preserve what Egyptians view as a matter of life and death.

Ethiopia’s Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD). Reuters

Escalating Egyptian Position

This is the third time Egypt has signaled the possibility of using its “right to self-defense” and preventing dam construction on the Nile.

On August 16, Egypt’s state news agency quoted an unnamed Egyptian official as saying that Cairo “will neither accept nor allow any party to control the flow of Nile waters to downstream countries,” stressing that the Egyptian state possesses multiple tools capable of protecting its people’s interests in the Nile.

The statement came in response to remarks attributed to Ethiopian Minister of Water and Energy Habtamu Itefa concerning the construction of additional dams on the Nile and control over water flows to downstream states, namely Egypt and Sudan.

Earlier, on August 4, Egyptian Minister of Water Resources and Irrigation Hani Sewilam stated during a press conference that Egypt “will not allow the construction of new Ethiopian dams on the Nile River.”

He said: “It is well known that Ethiopia has plans to build additional dams, but will the Egyptian state allow this? No.”

According to Hegazy, the ball is now in Ethiopia’s court. If Addis Ababa agrees to resume serious negotiations leading to a legally binding agreement on GERD, the crisis can be contained.

However, if Ethiopia continues to create new realities on the Nile, the scope for a diplomatic solution will narrow, making risk management and deterrence a more prominent part of Egypt’s strategy.

El-Behairy does not expect the escalation to pave the way for new negotiations on GERD unless the Ethiopian government is willing to make concessions in response to Cairo’s demands. These demands include reaching a legally binding agreement that guarantees Egypt’s water rights during periods of drought and severe drought, and providing Egypt with information regarding the operation of the dam in a manner that does not harm its water interests.


Train to Nowhere? South Korea’s Lonely Push for Peace with the North

A locomotive is seen at the Woljeong-ri Station in Cheorwon, Gangwon Province, in South Korea, near the demilitarized zone separating North and South Korea on August 10, 2026. (AFP)
A locomotive is seen at the Woljeong-ri Station in Cheorwon, Gangwon Province, in South Korea, near the demilitarized zone separating North and South Korea on August 10, 2026. (AFP)
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Train to Nowhere? South Korea’s Lonely Push for Peace with the North

A locomotive is seen at the Woljeong-ri Station in Cheorwon, Gangwon Province, in South Korea, near the demilitarized zone separating North and South Korea on August 10, 2026. (AFP)
A locomotive is seen at the Woljeong-ri Station in Cheorwon, Gangwon Province, in South Korea, near the demilitarized zone separating North and South Korea on August 10, 2026. (AFP)

Near the heavily fortified frontier dividing the Korean peninsula, the abandoned Woljeong-ri station is being recast as a symbol of South Korea's hopes to reconcile with the North.

But plans to reconnect South Korea's northernmost station to the rail network come at an awkward moment, as Pyongyang ignores Seoul's overtures while the South's old ally Washington pursues its own talks with Pyongyang.

A turbulent few days have raised doubts about the role of South Korea in any diplomatic push, despite President Lee Jae Myung's dovish line on the North since taking power last year.

US President Donald Trump abruptly scaled back annual military drills with Seoul this week, calling them "inappropriate and hostile" towards the nuclear-armed North.

He also berated South Korea for not helping in his war against Iran and said he would meet the North's leader Kim Jong Un this year.

North Korea then fired around 10 short-range ballistic missiles on Thursday, while Kim's powerful sister mocked Seoul's "master-servant" relationship with Washington.

The developments have overshadowed the Lee administration's outreach, including the Woljeong-ri project aimed at "eventual" reconciliation.

The modest station -- originally located inside today's demilitarized zone (DMZ) -- once sat on a line linking Seoul to Wonsan, but was destroyed during the 1950-53 Korean War. It was reconstructed at its current site in the border town of Cheorwon in 1988.

It is now an attraction for visitors to the nearby DMZ separating the two countries, and the line's former terminus -- Wonsan -- lies in North Korea.

Its history, however, underscores how vulnerable such hopes are to the politics of the peninsula.

Work began in 2015 but ground to a halt just a year later after North Korea's fourth nuclear test.

The latest reboot inspires more skepticism than hope for some in Cheorwon.

"It seems like they keep trying to reconcile with North Korea (through the railway project), but from our point of view, it isn't really practical," said resident Moon Jae-yong, 70.

- Lonely push for peace -

South Korea's reconciliation program eventually aims to restore rail links, such as Woljeong-ri, with the North.

Lee has also said he is ready for talks with Pyongyang without preconditions, including on formally ending the Korean War, which concluded with an armistice.

His unification minister said in July that Seoul had shifted from prioritizing denuclearization to curbing the expansion of North Korea's nuclear program.

But Pyongyang -- emboldened by support from traditional ally China, and Russia, whose invasion of Ukraine it is backing -- has been unmoved.

It has repeatedly declared itself an "irreversible" nuclear state and labelled Seoul its "most hostile" enemy.

The US leader may be trying to revive diplomacy to record a foreign policy win ahead of November's midterm elections, with many voters disenchanted by his intervention in the Middle East.

That has sidelined Seoul, with Lee voicing respect for Trump's decision and pledging to "do his utmost" to support his peacemaking efforts.

South Korea is "reasonably afraid that it gets sidelined -- China, Russia and now America are all engaged with Pyongyang in different ways, while Seoul is not," Vladimir Tikhonov, Korean Studies professor at the University of Oslo, told AFP.

"So, Seoul is desperate to get some opening with North Korea. But it can do very little, so far."

- Impossible dream? -

That leaves the rail project standing as a symbol of South Korea's lonely push for peace.

Along the disused line from Woljeong-ri towards Baengmagoji station to the south -- the section to be restored under the peace project -- vegetation crowds both sides of the tracks, nearly swallowing a stone wall.

"The iron horse wants to run," a sign reads, alongside a phrase in English: "We want to be back on track."

Preparing infrastructure in the South now could save time if inter-Korean links are eventually restored, said Lim Eul-chul, a professor at Kyungnam University.

"But realistically, it is virtually impossible under the current circumstances, and everyone knows that," he told AFP.

With few options on North Korea, Seoul has turned to projects it can "pursue unilaterally", Lim said.

The project also aims to boost tourism along the border, where residents face frequent disruptions and security risks.

Pyongyang sent trash-filled balloons and broadcast unsettling noises across the border during the administration of Lee's hawkish predecessor, Yoon Suk Yeol.

Kim Sun-hee, 70, described them as "like scraping cement, or even ghost-like noises. It was really frightening".

A bombed-out locomotive from the Korean War remains near Woljeong-ri station as a reminder of the division.

It is "heartbreaking to see", said visitor Ahn Seung-hyun.