The scale of the transformation that has swept Syria and Lebanon after the upheavals of 2024 is captured in a detail that is anything but minor: Syrian Foreign Minister Asaad al-Shaibani’s official visit to Beirut to negotiate a new judicial agreement between the two countries. For the Assads, Lebanon had long been little more than protectorate. The fall of Bashar al-Assad and the elimination of the Hezbollah leader, Hassan Nasrallah, along with its entire command structure, marked a decisive turning point. Yet Syria still lacks a clear direction, and Lebanon is unsure it can stand on its own. Both remain trapped in deep economic collapse.
What’s new is that the international community continues to back them—even as the Saudis, their main donors, hint that they expect more responsibility from both Syrian and Lebanese leaders. In Syria, the biggest uncertainty is interim president, Ahmed al-Sharaa, a former jihadist: will he be the transitional figure who helps the country cross the river, or the iron hand of a new Islamist one-party state—culturally different but structurally identical to the old regime? That’s where the tory may need to begin.
For al-Sharaa’s harshest Syrian critics, his leadership embodies Tancredi’s famous line in Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa’s The Leopard: “If we want things to stay as they are, things will have to change. ” Assad’s centralism survives in the mindset of al-Sharaa and the Salafist fundamentalists who rule alongside him. Is the one-party system through which he controls the army, the presidency, the government, and parliament simply a a response to crisis—or the blueprint for something more permanent?
From his first day in power, al-Sharaa declared that a federal Syria did not interest him, though he promised to include all the country’s communities. Ten months on, that pledge has not been fulfilled: Kurds, Alawites, and Druze—the main minorities—have been largely excluded from government, as have any citizens outside the Salafist current which al-Sharaa himself belongs to. The few ministries nominally assigned to minorities serve mostly as window dressing.
The same holds true for the Constitutional Declaration, pushed through in contradiction of earlier pluralist promises and without genuine consultation. The entire provisional framework he has built—interim presidency, interim government, and an appointed (not elected) and interim parliament—merely reproduces the one-party centralism of the past.
But what most alarms al-Sharaa’s critics is the presence of numerous foreign jihadists in his so-called national army—itself a temporary force- . Their involvement has ld to successive massacres of Alawites and Druze civilians, atrocities that have not quelled dissent but instead deepened it within the those communities, both of which are viewed as heretical by Salafist orthodoxy. The fear, then, is of an emerging religious fundamentalism, even though the original disputes centered on the state’s centralist structure.
This tension also underlies the conflict with another key group—the Kurds, Syria’s largest community. They administer northeastern Syria, or Rojava, a vast and resource-rich region they share with several Arab tribes. Since March, al-Sharaa has sought to bring the Kurdish military forces under his command, through negotiations that have swung between progress and breakdown. He has made them constitutional promises—broken and now renewed.
The Syria al-Sharaa governs is no place for philosophical reflection: armed gangs roam freely, crime is rampant, cities lie in ruin, agriculture has collapsed, and the population is starving. Yet the many memoranda of understanding signed by the new president to attract foreign—especially Arab—investment remain little more than paper. The reasons go beyond the chaos and hunger that feed lawlessness. For the Saudis, presidential-Sharaa still does not appear to be a reliable parter. After ten months in power, do they still see too much fundamentalism, too much Salafism? Some observers think so, while others cite the major Saudi initiative to rebuild Syria’s healthcare system as evidence that a measure of trust remains.
Al-Sharaa’s power rests on those who secured his victory in Damascus in December 2024—above all, Turkey. With the tacit approval of Russia, Saudi Arabia, and the United State, Ankara backed him and now helps him rebuild his forces, supplying weapons and military advisers. Turkey remains his main sponsor, but the Saudi influence is also clear. President Erdoğan accepted that US support—facilitated by his close relationship with Donald Trump—would come only after a conversation with Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman.
President Trump has since lifted executive sanctions, promoted a similar process at the United Nations, and won Senate approval to repeal congressional sanctions on Syria. He is now pushing the measure through the House of Representatives, where resistance remains strong. It is a crucial step toward reviving the Syrian economy, which is growing by barely one percent year-on-year.
Given these circumstances, can al-Sharaa really afford to loosen his grip on presidential and governmental power ? His Constitutional Declaration, in any case, has already dashed his early promises and imposed the same rigid structures that once defined Assad’s rule.. Legislative debate on the creation of political parties has yet to begin. After a potential victory on sanctions, will he be ready to open to the system to outside input and finally pursue a genuinely inclusive policy?
That, at least, is what the optimists believe—and precisely what the pessimists doubt. Yet one name hints at a possible way forward: Manaf Tlass, once one of Bashar al-Assad’s closest allies and the first to choose exile after the civil war began in 2011, convinced that the president was comitting every possible mistake. He defected, along with many others, to avoid complicity in the brutal repression.
From his exile in Paris, Tlass has begun speaking out again, suggesting that a range of political and military figures—along with rank-and-file soldiers from different religious communities who left with them—would be ready to help stabilize the country. Known and trusted among Alawites not implicated in the regime’s crimes, and respected within parts of the Sunni bourgeoisie, Tlass is reported to have been in Ankara recently for political talks with circles close to President Erdoğan.
Without internal stability, Syria will struggle to benefit from the lifting of sanctions. Erdoğan, who has invested heavily in a compliant Syria under Turkish military oversight, might welcome the idea—but in Damascus, few believe the two could coexist unless such an arrangement were imposed from outside. Meanwhile, the reemergence of ISIS—now targeting not only the Kurds but also the army of the “traitor” al-Sharaa, as recently seen in central and southern Syria—suggests that time is running out.
Al-Sharaa appears increasingly influenced by the extremists within the coalition that sustains him. Yet he also knows that the former jihadists who fill his army are not enough to counter ISIS. They know ISIS well—they once belonged to the same ranks—but for that very reason they alarm other Syrian actors, pushing them toward further radicalization against the government.
Perhaps wary of Manaf Tlass’s growing profile, al-Sharaa has reopened talks with the Kurds. The two sides agreed that if Kurdish forces could not be integrated into the national army as a unified formation, then they would not join piecemeal either, but as three battalions and several brigades. Both sides accepted this compromise : if it succeeds in strengthening internal security, it would mark a significant step forward.
Alongside this deal, al-Sharaa has revived the constitutional guarantees he first proposed—and later abandoned–in March, including the recognition of Kurdish as a second national language. He then traveled to Moscow, where he reaffirmed to Vladimir Putin all the controversial agreements signed when Russia intervened to save Assad—testing 320 new weapons systems in Syria and conducting 1,262 airstrikes against civilian targets. Those operations earned Moscow extensive naval and air bases as well as lucrative phosphate mining rights. In return, al-Sharaa seeks not an apology from Moscow to the Syrian people, but its help in stabilizing and reassuring the Alawite community, among whom the Russians have operated for decades.
But the agreement with the Kurds, endlessly debated, remains unsolved. Al-Sharaa may be waiting for the final lifting of sanctions before giving his approval—an act that would reshape Syria’s reality in geographic, political, and military terms, and allow him to take the steps needed to fully join the international coalition against ISIS. He knows that ruling alone with his loyalist fighters is not a sustainable strategy. Yet, as his defenders argue, cut off from external support, he has little choice but to keep his allies close.
Lebanon, by contrast, knows exactly who its president is: Joseph Aoun. From the outset, he has shown a clear sense of statehood. On the day of his election earlier this year, he began pulling the country back from the institutional void that— combined with the economic collapse following the 2019 default and the arrival of 1.5 million displaced people after the war with Israel—had pushed Lebanon toward the brink of paralysis.
Hezbollah, by comparison, now stands exposed. The “victory” it claims consists of suffering, ruins, and self-destruction—and above all, reveals that its notion of “resistance,” is meaningless when turned against the very state it professes to defend.
The ceasefire signed a year ago—accepted even by Hezbollah’s Khomeinist faction and incorporated into a UN resolution—calls for an Israeli withdrawal and Hezbollah’s disarmament. Some progress has been made: international sources report the seizure of 10,000 rockets and 400 missiles. Yetthe Lebanese government now faces Hezbollah’s efforts to preserve what remains of its military wing— a move that risks igniting another war.
Lebanon cannot accept Hezbollah retaining its remaining weapons—especially if it intends to function as a sovereign state that cannot coexist with an independent armed force. The heart of post-ceasefire deadlock lies here: Israel has yet to fully comply and still occupies several outposts on Lebanese soil because Hezbollah has not completely disarmed; Hezbollah, in turn, refuses to disarm because Israel has not withdrawn as agreed. The international community knows that the new Lebanese government has not only overseen major weapons seizures but also regained control of the airport, once under Hezbollah’s authority. Yet it also understands that President Aoun is reluctant to go it alone and risk plunging the country into another civil war.
Decapitated, Hezbollah is now directed largely from Tehran, which appears to be using its remaining weapons as bargaining chips with Washington. Increasingly, however, political leadership within Lebanon’s Shiite community is shifting to Amal—Hezbollah’s long-time ally but no longer its subordinate. Amal has no armed wing, yet it now leads the Shiite bloc, while the casualties from Israeli strikes–more than 320 since the ceasefire—have been almost entirel Hezbollah members.
It is in this context that President Aoun has put forward his proposal: a negotiated disarmament achieved through internationally mediated talks with Israel—whether direct or indirect. A few years ago, Hezbollah itself accepted indirect negotiations with Tel Aviv to define maritime borders, a step that allowed both countries to exploit newly discovered gas fields in the Mediterranean. Why not take the same approach settle the remaining disputes?
The hard-line purists of the anti-Israel cause reject direct talks, but they cannot easily oppose indirect ones—especially if managed through Lebanon’s long-standing triumvirate: the president of the republic, the prime minister, and, above all the president of parliament, the indefatigable ninety-year-old Amal leader Nabih Berri, who has held the post for decades.
All this sits uneasily with the Saudis. Some backtracking under Hezbollah’s street pressure has cooled their enthusiasm for the planned international conference to support the Lebanese army. The conference will still take place, but it is no longer certain that Riyadh will host it—a signal to President Aoun. He urgently needs Arab funding to strengthen the army that is meant to deploy in southern Lebanon in Hezbollah’s place. How will he respond to the Saudi message?
Counting on Hezbollah to face seems futile; the real question is whether the time has come to force the issue or to rely on Nabih Berri’s political maneuvering. Riyadh may well fear that waiting any longer will only pave the way for another war.
To begin rebuilding the foundations of the state, President Joseph Aoun and his ally, Prime Minister, Nawaf Salman, must also revive public confidence—something that may be helped by the upcoming visit of Pope Leo XVI to Lebanon. Beirut will be the first major city he visits since his election. The Pope’s trip, coming amid the debate over Hezbollah’s disarmament, is one of the most powerful instruments for restoring Lebanon’s global visibility— lost in the economic collapse since 2019 and deepened by the destruction of the Beirut’s port. He will go there to pray in silence: a gesture of immense weight. That explosion remains an open wound, and the renewed international attention it draws will not be fleeting, but a crucial step toward restoring faith in the country.
Lebanon’s problems begin with Hezbollah’s disarmament—the most urgent challenge, and one for which time is running short. But the deeper crisis lies in the country’s confessional system itself. The political class has ossified into a caste that wields power by monopolizing communal representation, and over the years it seems to have reached a silent understanding to divide the spoils: arms trafficking to Hezbollah, real estate speculation for others.
The collapses of recent years have reopened the gates to a new wave of emigration. If Beirut is not dead—and it is not—it is in a daze, and only a new civic pact can restore its role as an Arab, Mediterranean, and Western-facing city: a role no other can play, yet one essential to rebuilding the Mediterranean itself. For that reason, stronger European engagement with the Lebanese question would serve both Lebanon’s interests and our own.
Cover photo: Lebanon’s Foreign Minister Youssef Rajji and his Syrian counterpart Asad al-Shaibani attend a joint press conference following their meeting in Beirut on October 10 2025. (Photo by JOSEPH EID / AFP)
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