On Sunday, October 5, 2025, Syrians will witness a historic—if controversial—moment: the country’s first parliamentary elections since the ouster of longtime autocrat Bashar al-Assad. But rather than a jubilant, nationwide exercise in democracy, the process is unfolding as a deeply complex, highly managed affair, raising as many questions as it answers about representation, legitimacy, and the future of a nation battered by nearly a decade and a half of war.
The new parliament is being formed through an indirect election system that, according to Reuters, has stirred “concerns about political inclusivity under the country’s new leaders.” Instead of a popular vote, regional electoral colleges—comprising about 6,000 electors selected across 50 districts—will choose two-thirds of the 210-seat People’s Assembly. The remaining one-third of seats, or 70 lawmakers, will be directly appointed by interim President Ahmed al-Sharaa, the former rebel commander whose forces toppled Assad in December 2024.
The authorities say this indirect approach is a matter of necessity. Years of civil war have displaced millions of Syrians, scattered families across borders, and left the government with no reliable population data. “We don’t even know how many Syrians are in Syria today,” Benjamin Feve, a senior research analyst at Karam Shaar Advisory, told CBC. “It would be really difficult to draw electoral lists today in Syria.”
Yet, this very workaround has become a lightning rod for criticism. The government’s decision to postpone elections in the Kurdish-held northeast and the Druze-majority province of Sweida—citing security and political reasons—means 19 seats will remain empty. In Deir Ezzor, the Euphrates river now marks not just a geographical divide but a political one: the western, government-held half will vote, while the Kurdish-controlled east will not. “It does not satisfy me that there are elections there, and here there aren’t. We want something that serves the whole region. Syria is united,” said Hassan Mohamed Dalli, a resident of the city’s eastern bank, as quoted by Reuters.
For many, the indirect nature of the vote, combined with these regional exclusions, feels uncomfortably reminiscent of the past. Under the Assad dynasty, elections were technically open to all, but the Baath Party always dominated, and the contests were widely considered shams. The main difference now is that all existing parties were dissolved following Assad’s ouster, so candidates must run as individuals—though the process remains tightly controlled. A committee appointed by President al-Sharaa has approved 1,570 candidates from the electoral college ranks, according to Reuters and The Straits Times.
In theory, the new system is meant to be a temporary bridge. The parliament’s 30-month term is intended as a period for the government to stabilize the country and lay the groundwork for a future popular vote. But critics argue that the lack of clear criteria for how electors and candidates are chosen, and the absence of oversight, make the system vulnerable to manipulation. “Especially when it comes to choosing the subcommittees and the electoral colleges, there is no oversight, and the whole process is sort of potentially vulnerable to manipulation,” Haid Haid, a senior research fellow at the Arab Reform Initiative and Chatham House, told CBC.
Objections have already surfaced over the removal of names from initial candidate lists, with little explanation from authorities. This lack of transparency has fueled suspicions that the process is being managed from the center, rather than reflecting the true will of Syria’s diverse population.
Inclusivity is another flashpoint. While women were required to make up 20 percent of electoral college members, that hasn’t translated into robust representation among candidates or elected officials. State-run news agency SANA, cited by CBC, reported that women account for just 14 percent of the 1,578 candidates on the final lists. Some districts boast 30 or 40 percent female candidates, but others have none. There are no quotas for women or for religious and ethnic minorities, despite the country’s patchwork of communities and the recent outbreaks of sectarian violence that have killed hundreds of Alawite and Druze civilians.
Observers worry that the winner-takes-all system could produce a parliament dominated by Sunni Muslim men, potentially sidelining minority voices at a time when reconciliation is critical. “What the government could have done if it wanted to limit the number of minorities, it could have merged these districts or these localities with majority Sunni Muslim districts,” Feve told CBC. “They could have basically drowned the minorities, which is what they didn’t do.”
President al-Sharaa has repeatedly promised to use his one-third of appointed seats to improve inclusivity, particularly if women or minorities fare poorly in the electoral colleges. But this mechanism is a double-edged sword: it could either broaden representation or, as some analysts warn, concentrate power even further in the president’s hands. “If the President selects individuals subject to his influence, he could issue laws through decrees without effective challenge,” wrote Dr. Haid Haid in an analysis for the Arab Reform Initiative. “This moment could either legitimise a fragile transition or deepen longstanding public cynicism.”
Meanwhile, the absence of elections in Kurdish and Druze areas remains a sticking point. Even if al-Sharaa appoints lawmakers from these communities, the underlying disputes between local authorities and Damascus over political participation are unresolved. “The bottom line is that regardless of how many people will be appointed from those areas, the dispute between the de facto authorities and Damascus over their participation in the political process will remain a major issue,” Haid said, as reported by CBC.
For Syrians watching from within and abroad, there’s a sense of cautious hope mixed with profound skepticism. The last parliamentary elections, held in July 2024 under Assad, were dismissed as a farce by opposition groups. Now, with the Baath Party dissolved and a new, if imperfect, system in place, the fate of Syria’s fragile transition hangs in the balance. Will this parliament become a stepping stone toward genuine democracy, or just another chapter in the country’s long history of managed politics?
The coming months will reveal whether the promises of inclusivity and reform are realized—or if, as many fear, the wounds of war and division will continue to shape Syria’s political landscape.
