Anyone entering Syria inevitably begins forming impressions before crossing the border. Once inside, however, the sight of Syrians selling gasoline and fuel oil bought in Lebanon along the highway speaks volumes: the weight of sanctions still hangs over the country, so that Syrians are desperately seeking to earn a small profit by reselling these products at a higher price in their own country.
While at first glance it seems as though nothing has changed in Syria, a closer look reveals otherwise. The border landscape has shifted. Military personnel and officials, most of them bearded, now oversee the crossings with Lebanon. They enforce strict rules, refusing any form of bribery, very different than the norm under Assad rule.
Entering Damascus, one sees a city that seems to have been suspended in time. Buildings are visibly worn and streets are filled with old cars. The same holds true for hotels. Once associated with prestigious global brands before international companies withdrew because of sanctions, the hotels now stand as hollow relics of their former selves. Basic amenities such as hot water, heating, and an internet connection are considered luxuries, even in the most expensive establishments. The city’s streets starkly reveal what belonged to the public and what was reserved for the Assad family and its inner circle. Homes, shops, and public facilities bear the marks of time, until you reach areas connected to the Assads, where polished marble, glass facades, and decorative sidewalks replace the decay elsewhere. The towering buildings of state institutions and the Baath Party are divided between those taken over by the new authorities and those left abandoned, empty, and lifeless. The slogans that still adorn some of these buildings—“Assad Forever” and its variations—are ironic testaments to the hubris of authoritarian rule.
On the streets, young soldiers, barely out of their teens, stand in small numbers in open areas, their inexperience evident. Their presence highlights the political, military and security strains on the new administration, which has to rely on such youths to manage Syria’s capital. Officials of the new regime dismiss accusations that their administration is insular, pointing to numerous examples of inclusiveness. Still, they acknowledge their cautious and deliberate approach to appointments and decisionmaking. Whether this is due to prudence or a deliberate strategy of tightly controlling power, the result is inflexibility and slow responsiveness, perhaps inevitable at such a sensitive time in Syria.
Meanwhile, Syrians, whose faces bear the fatigue of war, continue their daily routines as best they can. Nowhere is this resilience more evident than in Old Damascus, where life moves forward despite the weight of history and hardship. Though Syria has undergone rapid transformations in recent years, the old city has retained its timeless charm. Ancient landmarks are scattered across every corner, and despite economic struggles, dimly lit streets at night, and sectarian wounds from past conflicts, its spirit endures. Shops open their doors, people go about their lives, and in the heart of Damascus individuals from all religions and sects continue to coexist—not under the oversight of the state, but thanks to a deep-rooted social fabric that has long held the city together.
Nevertheless, the social and architectural harmony within the historical walls of the city has been marred by neglect on the one hand, and by the towering Fatima al-Zahra complex in the Al-Shaghour neighborhood on the other. Built in 2015, this massive structure, out of place both in its form and function, was constructed by the Iranians and their militias as a central hub for their operations in the old party of the city. It stands as a symbol of the attempt to alter the urban reality of Old Damascus.
The sense of cohesion and security within Old Damascus quickly fades when venturing into the city’s outskirts. Here, the devastating impact of the former regime’s use of barrel bombs is evident, with entire neighborhoods reduced to rubble. This destruction, however, did not stop with the bombings. Government-affiliated companies then stepped in and secured contracts to demolish and rebuild those areas. Such reconstruction functioned as a form of demographic engineering to repopulate the capital’s outskirts with communities favored by the regime. Residents of the areas insist the battle was never just military or political; it was an orchestrated effort to reshape the outskirts’ demographic makeup and surround the native population with outsiders unfamiliar with their history and traditions.
Syrians, though joyful because of the fall of the Assad regime, do not hold back their criticism of the new leadership. However, they distinguish between constructive criticism—urging quicker economic recovery and broader political and social inclusion—and calls for a new revolution, which they firmly reject. This newfound ability to critique the leadership freely, in cafes and public spaces, is itself a revolutionary shift. While support for the new government is slowly waning, the prevailing sentiment remains one of relief at having been liberated from Assad rule.
Their doubts about Syria’s new masters were abruptly reversed following the killing of thirteen members of the General Security forces by remnants of the old regime in early March near Jableh in Rural Lataqiyya Governorate. When the news broke, many people who believed that the remnants of the former regime had been silenced forever, were suddenly gripped by anxiety. This reignited fears about a comeback of Assad rule, possibly with foreign backing. For a majority, preservation of their newly-won freedom has become an existential issue. The regime’s overthrow may have been swift, but it has not erased over 50 years of oppression from the collective memory of Syrians
This mood, coupled with a long-awaited sense of empowerment, led to unprecedented religious mobilization and rising sectarian tensions. Sermons in mosques across Syria, in cities and villages alike, urged young men to join the “mujahideen” and called upon the public to support the new leadership by all means possible. Prayers were held for divine punishment of the remnants of Assad rule—punishment that, for some, extended to all Alawites. In a dangerous development, this anger turned into indiscriminate retribution against the entire community, leading to the killing of perhaps hundreds of its members. In this atmosphere of sectarian polarization, there were those who affirmed, “No Alawite shall rule over a Sunni in Syria ever again.”
A striking development was the support for the new leadership not only in Salafi circles, but also in Sufi circles, which dominate urban religious life in Syria. Sufi clerics, traditionally more reserved, appeared even more fervent than their Salafi counterparts in backing the new government. Their reasoning mirrored that of the general population: they could not allow a return of the old regime in any form.
However, there were also many Syrians who opposed the sectarian killings of Alawites in Syria’s coastal areas and their hinterland. The new regime sought to show it was open to self-reflection and self-criticism by establishing a committee to investigate those killings. However, the true test will lie in the seriousness of its work, as well as assurances that such incidents will not happen again
The attacks by the remnants of the Assad regime had repercussions elsewhere. In southern Syria, the dominant local leader, Ahmad al-Audeh, who until now has not recognized Ahmad al-Sharaa’s leadership, set aside his differences and cooperated with the new authorities. His deployment of forces was crucial in preventing potential coordination between some southern factions and regime remnants in the coastal areas. In doing so, the leadership in Damascus was able to prevent the possibility of an uprising in the south at a moment of great vulnerability.
Years of Assad rule, especially during the last decade, which was shaped by Iran-backed sectarian influence, had already hardened the majority in Syria, making the population cling to the new government with almost desperate resolve. This has conditioned many Syrians to rise above internal disputes, especially when facing domestic or external threats. As a result, despite widespread criticism of the slow pace of economic reform and the closed nature of the leadership’s political decisionmaking, their frustrations are likely to be set aside whenever Syria is in danger.
For most people, the situation is now framed as a binary choice: Either stand with Ahmad al-Sharaa or risk a return to some form of the old regime, with all its political, social, and sectarian consequences. While many may not fully embrace Sharaa’s leadership, they see no alternative to it. Given this reality, many Syrians today stand behind the new leadership, hoping for stability and development—a vision the leadership itself does not seem far from embracing.
However, Syria’s challenges are anything but simple. From separatist sentiments to foreign interventions and sanctions, multiple dynamics have reinforced a sense of caution, hindering progress, and leading to a narrowing of the circle of governance. Managing and resolving internal problems remains the most critical objective for the new Syrian regime, if it seeks to capitalize on the unprecedented support it enjoys.
