Ahmed al-Sharaa, Syria's new interim leader, has failed in his responsibility to protect all Syrians and build an inclusive government. In recent months, the country has witnessed massacres in multiple areas. The resurgence of sectarian violence runs contrary to the original hopes of the Syrian revolution.
By Adnan Nasser
From the mass killing of innocent Alawite civilians in the coastal regions of Latakia and Tartus to the attempted genocide of Syria’s historical Druze community, the new government has shown a deep failure to govern equitably. One of the most shocking incidents was the suicide bombing of a church in Damascus during a Sunday mass last June, which left 22 people dead and many more injured.
These horrors are a stark reminder that the Syrian civil war has not ended—it simply has fewer actors.
When I returned to Damascus in late December, I reported on the crimes committed by the Assad regime in the infamous Sednaya prison. I saw firsthand the horrific conditions people endured during their captivity under Bashar al-Assad.
When Assad’s regime finally fell, many, including myself, hoped that the future would bring justice and reform. Despite concerns about the rise of an Islamist group, Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, leading a historically secular nation.
Working in Syria as a correspondent for a foreign news channel, I recall sitting at a café that doubled as a pub—coffee by day, alcohol by night—and overhearing two young women discussing the new leadership. The common denominator was scepticism and fear. One night, some of them turned to me in private and said: “They keep telling me I’m free now, but I can’t even say how I feel.”
I also recall meeting a young man who worked as a barista in a shop in the Old Damascus neighbourhood. He told me that his uncle had been kidnapped the night before. I asked him hesitantly, though in a friendly manner, about his religious background. He responded openly, saying that he and his uncle were Shia Muslims.
Not to mention the many taxi drivers, unofficial political commentators in the Middle East, who shared their nostalgic memories of Syria before the war, one elderly Druze man who had served in the Syrian army before 2011 said: “We had dignity before the war. We had no money, and we couldn’t speak politics, but at least the country was stable and modernising. We were on our way to becoming like Dubai. That idiot Bashar didn’t make the right choices after the protests started. And then he ran like a coward after so many deaths.”
His stubbornness and brutality brought about Assad’s downfall. He lost all legitimacy when he chose force over reform. No one knows how things might have turned out if he had heeded the peaceful calls for change in March 2011—but they certainly wouldn’t have led to the scale of devastation we’ve witnessed over the past 14 years.
The Days of Al-Sharaa
If Assad's era was marked by fear and bloodshed, the rise of Ahmed al-Sharaa—known by his nom de guerre, Abu Mohammad al-Julani—began in a similar manner. Like Assad, Sharaa promised reforms, freedoms, and a representative government that would reflect Syria’s diverse society.
The early photo ops, speeches, and international meetings gave people hope despite deep scepticism. The world was ready to give the new government a chance to build a nation centred around citizenship, dignity, and rights.
But Sharaa has proven himself to be a political chameleon.
He speaks the language the West wants to hear. He travelled across the region and Europe, selling himself as a reformed figure —a Syrian patriot who had shed his militant past. He pledged to govern for all Syrians.
Instead, he governs for a few. He has failed to hold accountable the murderers and thugs responsible for new waves of violence. His promises have unravelled into empty rhetoric.
Israel's recent actions have only made the situation more dangerous. After the massacre of Druze civilians in Sweida, Israeli fighter jets bombed Syrian government-backed Bedouin militias. They even struck the Defence Ministry in Damascus—a direct warning to Sharaa: handle the situation or lose control.
The Dilemma of the Druze
The Druze community, one of Syria’s oldest minority groups, has long been an integral part of the nation’s cultural fabric. Known as al-Muwaḥḥidūn, they are an esoteric Arab religious group with roots in 11th-century Islam, although most traditional Muslims do not consider them part of Islam.
Following deadly clashes in Sweida earlier this year, President Sharaa delivered a televised speech:
“We are eager to hold accountable those who transgressed and abused our Druze people, because they are under the protection and responsibility of the state,” he said, describing the Druze as “a fundamental part of the fabric of this nation.”
“We affirm that protecting your rights and freedoms is among our top priorities,” he added. “We reject any attempt, foreign or domestic, to sow division within our ranks.”
Responsibility for security in the violence-plagued region, he said, would be transferred to religious elders and local factions “based on the supreme national interest.”
Yet since the killings in the coastal region last March, no meaningful accountability has materialised. More burials follow promises. The mark of authentic leadership is action when promises cannot be kept—not silence and delay.
Today’s Syria is transforming into a Sunni-dominated state governed through coercion, not unlike the Assad model. The faces have changed, but the tyranny remains.
There is now a real fear of the country partitioning and may even require international security guarantees for the protection of minority groups if the situation does not de-escalate.
This is the result of the world being delusional in its belief that a former al-Qaeda leader could be reformed enough to satisfy the aspirations of the Syrians and international conditions for good governance, and be a peaceful, cooperative neighbour in the region.
The Syrian people deserve better. And they are still waiting.
Excellent, insightful article. Indeed, the terrorist in a tie now at the helm in Syria is not for the betterment of Syria's several longstanding ethnic groups.