Syria's Not-So-New Reality

Syria's "transitional" leader follows an old playbook, offering a case study of power consolidation in the region

Ahmed al-Sharaa by Ali Haj Suleiman / Getty Images

It comes as no surprise to seasoned observers of the region that Ahmed al-Sharaa has declared himself the new president of Syria. In a political landscape defined by force, patronage, and survival, power is not won through democratic elections or diplomatic negotiations. It is seized. Politics in the Middle East is not a measured game of strategic maneuvering akin to three-dimensional chess; it is Russian roulette, where a single opportunity, a single decision, and often sheer ruthlessness determine survival.

Historically, the winner takes all. Compromise is rare, and when it does occur, it is more of a pause than a resolution—a momentary equilibrium before the next inevitable power struggle. This is how it has always been and, unless something profoundly disrupts the entrenched order, how it will always be.

Sharaa’s ascent is not an anomaly but a textbook case of power consolidation in the Middle East. His rise was not due to ideology or foreign endorsement—but to his ability to navigate a battlefield where allegiances shift like desert sands. By maneuvering between various militant factions, co-opting or neutralizing rivals, and exploiting geopolitical openings, he managed to unite disparate groups under his command. In the brutal arithmetic of warlords and revolutionaries, those who consolidate power survive. Those who fail, perish.

To the Western world, Syria’s future may appear uncertain, a murky scene of competing factions and potential outcomes. But to those familiar with the region’s history, the conclusion is clear: the winner is the one who remains standing. The alternatives—exile, irrelevance, or death—await those who fail to grasp this fundamental reality.

Western policymakers often frame political transitions in ideological terms—democracy, human rights, governance. In the Middle East, the calculus is far simpler: who commands the guns, who secures the backing of regional power brokers, who controls the cities, and who earns the loyalty of those who enforce order. This reality is neither pleasant nor palatable to those who advocate for democratic norms, but it is the reality nonetheless.

Some will point to historical parallels—the return of Ayatollah Khomeini to Iran, the post-2003 Iraqi leadership installed by U.S. intervention. But these examples reveal a deeper truth: legitimacy is not granted by foreign patrons or ideological narratives. It is earned on the ground, through struggle, through force, through an undeniable claim to power that only those who have fought for it can wield. The Iraqi politicians who returned under the protection of U.S. forces never commanded true legitimacy in the eyes of their own people; they were seen as interlopers, proxies for foreign interests. They had not bled for their power, so they had no real claim to it.

The same fate awaits those who fail to consolidate their hold in Syria. Time and again, Western policymakers have placed faith in power-sharing agreements and negotiated settlements, only to watch them unravel in the face of more ruthless realities. The notion that power in Syria—or in any comparable conflict zone—can be divided among factions in a lasting way ignores the lessons of history. Power is not shared; it is wielded. Then it’s defended with force.

Sharaa understands this de facto law. His claim to power is not based on elections or consensus, but on survival, on his ability to outmaneuver, outlast, and outfight his rivals. For those watching from afar, the choices are simple: acknowledge reality or remain wedded to delusions. The world can either recognize the new power structures emerging in Syria or cling to outdated notions of what governance should look like in theory. But reality does not wait for sentiment.

Ahmed al-Sharaa has done what others failed to do—he has endured, he has conquered, and for now, Syria is his. To some observers, his path was neither democratic nor just, but it was effective. And in the Middle East, effectiveness is what ultimately determines the future. The question is not whether the world approves, but how it chooses to engage. Because history has shown, time and again, that in this part of the world, the winner takes all.