On a crisp morning in November 2025, the world watched as Ahmed al-Sharaa, better known to many as Abu Mohammad al-Julani, strode into the Oval Office. It was a moment that would have seemed unthinkable just a few years earlier: a former emir of Syria’s al-Qaeda affiliate, now the president of Syria’s interim government, being welcomed as a head of state in Washington, D.C. For the first time since 1946, a Syrian leader was received at the White House, and the symbolism was impossible to ignore.
But behind the handshakes and photo opportunities lies a story that is as complex as it is controversial. Syria’s political transition since the collapse of the Assad regime in late 2024 has, on the surface, gone better than many observers expected. According to The Economist, President Ahmed al-Sharaa has shown skill as a diplomat, steering the country through a perilous period. Yet, as the dust settles, deep questions remain about the nature of Syria’s new leadership, the inclusivity of its governance, and the future of its diverse communities.
The roots of this transition stretch back to 2011, when Bashar al-Assad’s refusal to step down—and his brutal crackdown on peaceful protesters—plunged Syria into a devastating civil war. Over the next fourteen years, the country was torn apart by proxy wars, foreign interventions, and the rise of extremist factions. Western powers, Turkey, and Gulf states pursued regime change by supporting a patchwork of opposition groups, with covert programs like Operation Timber Sycamore funneling weapons into Syria. As Geopoliticalmonitor.com reports, the so-called “moderate rebels” often proved to be more label than reality, with much of the firepower ending up in the hands of Salafi-jihadist groups like al-Nusra Front—led by none other than Julani himself.
The collapse finally came in December 2024. Weakened by years of sanctions, military strikes, and territorial losses, the Syrian state unraveled with shocking speed. Assad fled to Russia on December 8, and within weeks, Julani—under his legal name, Ahmed al-Sharaa—was installed as president of a transitional government. An interim charter concentrated executive power in the presidency for a five-year period, setting the stage for a dramatic rebranding of both leader and country.
This rebranding was not accidental. Starting around 2017, Julani and his group, Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), undertook a calculated effort to shed their jihadist image. He gave interviews in business suits, spoke the language of pragmatic governance, and formally broke with al-Qaeda. Western intelligence agencies began to reassess their stance, and by 2025, the United States had removed the $10 million bounty on his head and lifted his designation as a terrorist. The transformation was so complete that, in September 2025, Sharaa appeared at the Concordia Annual Summit in New York City, where he was interviewed by retired US General David Petraeus—the very man who once led efforts to hunt him down. Weeks later, he was in the White House with President Donald Trump, who suspended sanctions on Syria for 180 days and hailed him as a major advocate for peace.
Yet, as Fair Observer and other outlets caution, this normalization of Julani’s regime is fraught with risk. His ascent was not the product of democratic reform or national consensus. Instead, it was forged through years of insurgency, coercion, and violence. The United Nations and Human Rights Watch have documented war crimes, massacres, and torture committed by HTS during the civil war. Despite the new image, many Syrians—especially among minority groups—remain deeply skeptical of his intentions.
For Syria’s Kurds, Druze, and Alawites, the rise of an unelected leader with a hardline past is a chilling echo of the very authoritarianism they fought to escape. According to reporting from the London School of Economics, Al Monitor, and North Press, the new government has rolled back Kurdish language curricula, cultural programs, and public holidays like Newroz. The interim constitution rejects federalism, strips Kurdish cultural and linguistic recognition, and echoes the homogenization policies of the old Ba’athist regime. The government’s stance is clear: demands for power-sharing or decentralized governance are seen as threats to national unity.
This centralization has not brought the promised stability. Instead, tensions have risen, particularly among the Druze in Sweida and the Kurds in the north. Syria Direct and the Middle East Institute report that the central government has supported Sunni Bedouin tribes in local clashes, further eroding trust and security among minority communities. The pattern is familiar: those who demand autonomy or self-defense are treated as threats, not partners in Syria’s future.
Washington’s embrace of al-Sharaa aligns with the interests of regional powers like Turkey, which views the new regime as a means to neutralize Kurdish autonomy in northern Syria. According to the Atlantic Council and the Washington Institute, Ankara’s influence has grown as US policy shifted to support a strong central government in Damascus. Meanwhile, the communities who bore the brunt of the fight against ISIS—Kurds, Druze, and others—find themselves marginalized once again.
The economic stakes are enormous. With reconstruction needs estimated at $250-400 billion, Damascus has become a magnet for foreign investment. The Trump administration’s suspension of the Caesar Act sanctions paved the way for Gulf states and Turkey to announce billions in reconstruction funds and contracts. China has expressed interest in including Syria in its Belt and Road Initiative, and Russia scrambles to maintain its foothold on the Mediterranean coast. Yet, as Geopoliticalmonitor.com notes, the terms are often extractive—foreign firms profit, while Syria’s sovereignty and ability to set its own development priorities remain constrained.
For Israel, the fragmentation of Syria is a strategic windfall. The country now functions as an archipelago of cantons, divided along ethnic and sectarian lines. Israeli forces have seized buffer zones and strategic high ground, while minorities like the Druze and Alawites look outside Damascus for protection. The old civic identity that once bound Syrians together has been replaced by a patchwork of local allegiances and foreign patrons.
Despite the outward appearance of progress, many Syrians question whether their country has truly turned a corner. The interim government’s promise of inclusivity is undermined by persistent reports of repression, exclusion, and the continued dominance of HTS security units. The basic requirements of statehood—shared civic identity, monopoly on legitimate violence, and capacity to provide public goods—remain elusive. Infrastructure is shattered, public services are in disarray, and multiple armed factions continue to operate with impunity.
The international community faces a stark dilemma. The transition in Syria has brought an end to Assad’s brutal rule and diminished Iran’s influence, but at the cost of empowering a new strongman whose record offers little hope for genuine pluralism or democratic reform. As The Economist succinctly put it, President al-Sharaa has been a deft diplomat, but he must do more to reassure Syrians about the future of their country. Without major constitutional guarantees, independent elections, and meaningful inclusion of all communities, Syria risks sliding into a new era of authoritarianism—one cloaked in the language of stability, but built on the foundations of exclusion and coercion.
In the end, the question remains whether Syrians—of every background—can endure what their country has become, and whether the world will hold its new leaders to the standards of justice and inclusion that so many sacrificed for over the past decade.