In the span of a single week, Syria witnessed two developments pointing in opposite directions.
In the northeast, the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), a Kurdish-led force that for years served as Washington’s principal local partner against ISIS, announced its dissolution and integration into the Syrian military. Days later, Syrian President Ahmed al-Sharaa appointed SDF commander Mazloum Abdi as a presidential adviser. Hundreds of miles to the south, in the Druze-majority province of Sweida, Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri, one of Syria’s most prominent Druze spiritual leaders, moved in almost the opposite direction, describing the Druze as “an integral part of the State of Israel.”
Together, these developments tell one of the most important stories about the new Syria. The question facing al-Sharaa is no longer simply whether he can restore Damascus’s authority over most of the country. The more difficult question is whether he can build a state that Kurds, Druze and other minorities can regard as their own.
The dissolution of the SDF represents a significant achievement. For years, it controlled large parts of northern and eastern Syria, maintained a substantial military force, administered civilian institutions and benefited from American protection. After the fall of the Assad regime, Kurdish de facto autonomy remained one of the main obstacles to restoring Damascus’s authority over the whole country. Military pressure, territorial losses and a changing regional environment sharply reduced the Kurds’ room for maneuver. Now, from al-Sharaa’s perspective, the result is clear: An independent armed force that could have remained a parallel army within the state has ceased to exist.
But dismantling an armed force is not the same as building a state.
Al-Sharaa has taken steps to show the Kurds that integration does not require erasing their identity. The Kurdish language has been recognized as a national language. Nowruz, the Kurdish New Year, has been declared a national holiday. Longstanding citizenship issues have been addressed. Abdi’s appointment signals a willingness to bring Kurdish leadership into the political system.
These are important steps, but declarations and symbolic gestures are not enough. The real test is how Syria’s institutions will function: who holds power, whether Kurds receive meaningful representation and whether they can preserve their identity without the state treating it as a threat.
That question carries particular weight because of al-Sharaa’s past. The man asking Syria’s minorities to trust the state he is building emerged not from a tradition of political pluralism but from the jihadist movement. He led an armed Islamist organization for years before gradually adopting the language of statecraft, inclusion and minority protection.
That transformation may be genuine. Leaders can change when they move from insurgency to government. But another possibility cannot be dismissed: That his current moderation is primarily strategic, intended to stabilize Syria; secure international legitimacy and investment; and reduce internal resistance while the central government consolidates its power.
A state becomes cohesive when its citizens do not believe they need outside protection from the state.
It is too early to know whether al-Sharaa’s transformation is genuine. That is precisely why he should be judged by actions, institutions and rules rather than speeches. The critical question is not only how he treats minorities while he needs their cooperation and international support, but how he treats them when he is strong enough to need them less. The difference between integration and submission will be determined by how the Syrian state behaves when power is firmly in its hands.
That is why al-Sharaa should be concerned about Sweida. While the Kurds are moving, at least institutionally, toward Damascus, parts of the Druze community are moving in the opposite direction. Following the killings in Sweida, including extrajudicial executions of Druze civilians that Amnesty International attributed to government and government-affiliated forces, a deep crisis of confidence has developed between parts of the Druze community and Damascus. Al-Hijri had already called for Sweida’s independence. His latest description of the Druze as an integral part of Israel goes considerably further.
This does not mean Syria’s Druze want to become Israelis. Al-Hijri’s remarks have generated opposition among Druze who reject the idea. The community is not monolithic, and its leaders hold differing views of Damascus, Israel and Syria’s future. That disagreement is itself revealing. Many Druze are not searching for another country. They are searching for a Syria in which they can remain Druze while also being secure and equal Syrian citizens.
A country does not become unified simply because every armed force ultimately answers to the capital. Sovereignty is not measured solely by checkpoints, border crossings or flags above government buildings. A state becomes truly cohesive when its citizens no longer believe they need an outside power to protect them from the state itself.
The Kurds and Druze therefore present al-Sharaa with mirror images. For years, the United States was the principal guarantor of Kurdish security and de facto autonomy. Al-Sharaa now has an opportunity to prove that the Syrian state can replace the need for outside protection through representation and security rather than coercion. In Sweida, the opposite process is unfolding. As parts of the Druze community have lost confidence in Damascus, Israel has become more important as a potential source of protection.
This is the paradox al-Sharaa must resolve. Rebuilding Syria requires a strong central government. After more than a decade of civil war, militias and foreign intervention, no stable state can emerge if every community maintains its own armed force and foreign patron. But if centralized authority is built through coercion, exclusion or fear, the stronger Damascus becomes, the more minorities may look beyond it for protection.
In a previous article, I asked what kind of army al-Sharaa is building. Behind that question lies an even larger one: What kind of state will that army serve, and how many Syrians will believe that state belongs to them as well?
For years, Syria has been measured through maps: who controls Idlib, who holds Sweida and who governs east of the Euphrates. Al-Sharaa is now closer than any Syrian leader since the beginning of the civil war to bringing most of that map under one government. That achievement should not be underestimated. But a map painted in one color is not necessarily a unified country.
The Kurds show what integration might achieve; the Druze show what happens when a minority no longer trusts the state to protect it.
That test is not al-Sharaa’s alone. It also belongs to governments deciding how much legitimacy, investment and diplomatic engagement the new Syria should receive. Government and government-affiliated forces have already been implicated in grave abuses against minorities, while uniformed Syrian soldiers have been filmed threatening Jews. International legitimacy should therefore be conditional. If Damascus coerces minorities, tolerates sectarian or antisemitic incitement within its security forces or fails to prevent or punish mass abuses by forces operating under state authority, there should be consequences such as diplomatic condemnation and targeted sanctions to the suspension of political and economic benefits. Where civilians face imminent large-scale violence, even the possibility of force cannot be ruled out. The world should not wait for another massacre to decide whether al-Sharaa’s moderation is real.
Al-Sharaa may yet prove that Syria’s reunification can become genuine national integration. But the burden of proof is on him. If the Syrian state again becomes a threat to the minorities it claims to govern, the world should not merely reassess al-Sharaa’s intentions. It should exact a price.
