International Crisis Group (ICG)
Report 253 / Middle East & North Africa 26 November 2025 20+ minutes
Restoring Security in Post-Assad Syria: Lessons from the Coast and Suweida
Two major crises – one in majority-Alawite areas and another in the largely Druze south – have tested Syria’s new government in 2025. Its heavy-handed response has alienated parts of society. To keep the country’s transition on track, it needs to remedy flaws in its security approach.
Syria
What’s new? Close to a year after Bashar al-Assad’s fall, Syria’s new leadership has made remarkable progress in rehabilitating its global image, but it faces governance and security challenges at home. These require the same focused attention that it has paid to external relations.
What happened? In 2025, two major security interventions went awry, spiralling into atrocities. The first took place in coastal and central regions of Syria that are home to many Alawites. The second, in the southern province of Suweida, even drew in Israel.
Why does it matter? The bloodshed has deepened rifts in Syrian society and fed perceptions, particularly within communities on the receiving end of violence, that the new authorities do not protect all Syrians equally. These trends threaten to spawn more conflict and derail the transition to a stable post-conflict order.
What should be done? Damascus should integrate armed groups into the military, impose discipline upon them, hold abusers accountable and involve local communities in security arrangements. While express conditionality is unlikely to work, donors should press for concrete improvements in these areas.
Executive Summary
The warm reception for President Ahmed al-Sharaa at the UN General Assembly in September, and at the White House on 10 November, demonstrates the new Syrian government’s remarkable success in burnishing its global image – but it has much else to do. Almost a year after Bashar al-Assad’s fall, security breakdowns have marred Syria’s transition. In March, government efforts to subdue insurgents loyal to the ousted regime descended into sectarian slaughter. Hundreds of civilians were killed, mainly from the Alawite religious minority to which the Assad family belongs and that was heavily represented in its regime. Then, in mid-July, the government’s attempt to quell violence between Druze and Bedouin in the southern Suweida province escalated into a confrontation that drew in Israel. Further flare-ups like these could throw the transition off track. The new rulers need to turn their attention to internal security challenges to regain the trust of those parts of Syrian society that feel alienated from the new order.
Since the former jihadist group Hei’at Tahrir al-Sham marched on Damascus in late 2024 and took the reins of power, a sense has grown among Alawites and others that Syria’s new dispensation has no place for them. In late January, the new rulers summarily dismissed the old regime’s security apparatus, in which Alawites were disproportionately represented. This measure created a huge pool of unemployed men with military training and few prospects, in a country that remains awash in small arms. The insurgency that emerged in March should not have been a surprise.
The March clashes came after three months of simmering violence in central and coastal Syria. Most of the victims were Alawites, whom many Syrians hold collectively responsible for the fallen regime’s abusive rule. Retribution often seems to have been behind the attacks, while the language and behaviour of perpetrators frequently suggested sectarian motives. For many among the country’s minorities, the experience confirmed a feeling that Syria’s new rulers are incapable or perhaps even uninterested in protecting them, with Alawites particularly inclined to see an existential threat to their community.
Then, in July, the government’s attempt to end clashes between Bedouin and Druze in Suweida led the latter to see Damascus as siding with their enemies. Reports of sectarian abuse by government forces fanned the flames of reprisal. The death toll rose well above 1,000, with hundreds of civilians among the victims, and some 200,000 people were displaced. Israel, which had begun making military incursions into Syrian territory and conducting airstrikes on strategic locations in December 2024, stepped in. Ostensibly to protect the Druze, it attacked government armour near Suweida and defence institutions in Damascus, creating a stalemate between the sides that prevails to this day.
While the triggers of these rounds of violence have varied, flaws in the government’s security approach have been a consistent theme. Once the authorities entered the fray, they used overwhelming force, but the troops they sent were often undisciplined. Attempts to rein in transgressions, such as there were, proved insufficient. Combined, these shortcomings contributed significantly to the escalation of manageable unrest into serious bloodshed.
Bigger challenges may still be to come. For some time after it wrested power from the Assad regime, the new leadership enjoyed the benefit of the doubt from a war-weary population hoping for better days. But after nearly a year, minorities, as well as a growing number of secular and liberal Syrians, feel increasingly excluded. The damage seems cumulative: with each new round of fighting and sectarian atrocities, the number of Syrians who see Damascus as a threat rather than a protector will only grow. These dynamics could also strain the already precarious relations with the Kurdish-dominated Autonomous Administration in the north east and its military arm, the Syrian Democratic Forces, which controls an area comprising some 25 per cent of Syrian territory and has tens of thousands of fighters. The example of Suweida seems to have convinced many in the north east that Damascus cannot be trusted. Many now feel they must keep forces under arms for their own security and a stake in the transition.
The Syrian government needs to urgently address the flaws in its security approach, first and foremost by establishing firm command of all the armed groups that it has integrated into the army, as well as improving their professionalism. It should also avoid sending units with poor discipline to sensitive areas. To its credit, Damascus has begun taking steps in this direction, including tightening recruitment procedures for the army and General Security (the internal security force), as well as redeploying unruly troops away from places where they could do the most additional harm.
The government should improve its capacity to stop violence at an early stage and with measures that reduce, not increase, the potential for escalation.
Still, more needs to be done. The government should improve its capacity to stop violence at an early stage and with measures that reduce, not increase, the potential for escalation. Specific training, emphasising community engagement, for vetted members of General Security should be a priority. Active involvement of local communities in security provision under the supervision of central authorities will allow for meeting challenges more swiftly than relying almost entirely on non-locals, while helping build trust among the affected populations. To stabilise Suweida, Damascus should focus on service provision and economic integration, working with respected local intermediaries to gradually restore trust, creating the necessary conditions for political dialogue down the road.
Most importantly, the government needs to signal credibly that it will protect all Syrians, regardless of communal and political affiliation, through concrete, observable steps. All segments of Syrian society – minorities, but also those from among the Sunni Arab majority who disagree with the new leadership’s political and social orientation – need to see evidence that they can help shape the country’s future. Security and inclusion are not a luxury in today’s Syria. Rather, they will be a key condition for building social consensus around a new political order that can handle the challenges lying directly ahead – and further into the future.
Damascus/Brussels, 26 November 2025
A busy day at the Hamidiyah market, Damascus city, 2025. CRISIS GROUP
I.
Introduction
Syria has whipsawed between hope and frustration since 8 December 2024, when rebels led by Hei’at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) swept into the capital Damascus, taking over from President Bashar al-Assad and his entourage, who had left the country, and ending thirteen years of devastating civil war. Many Syrians experienced sheer jubilation at the hated Assad regime’s demise, coupled with anticipation that their long-suffering country might enter a new era of peace, prosperity and more participatory governance.
Others, however, remained anxious about what sort of rule the new authorities would establish in Assad’s place – to wit, whether they would try to accommodate Syrians outside their Sunni Islamist base and whether they could take the edge off the intercommunal animosities sharpened by the regime’s wartime atrocities. A particularly strong sense of vulnerability and victimisation developed among the Alawites, the religious community to which the Assad family belongs. Kurds and Druze, who in the course of the civil war managed to wrest parts of the areas where they have historically settled from central control, were also wary of the new leadership attempting to assert itself throughout Syrian territory.
Syria’s new rulers have scored remarkable successes since their triumph in December 2024, in particular building a great deal of external legitimacy. Within months of taking the reins in Damascus, they not only secured funding pledges from Gulf donors, but also obtained sanctions relief from the U.S., the European Union and the UK, along with removal of HTS from the U.S. list of Foreign Terrorist Organizations and the British list of proscribed terrorist organisations.1 (The failure of the U.S. Congress to repeal the “Caesar sanctions” – so named after a photographer who recorded horrific images of Assad regime atrocities – stands out as a regrettable exception.) In notable signs of diplomatic pragmatism, they worked to maintain relationships with Russia and Iran, while also engaging in security talks with Israel.2
While the new authorities have refrained from imposing an Islamist agenda ... many Syrians feel that they are falling short of creating an inclusive political order.
Domestically, however, the record is more mixed. While the new authorities have refrained from imposing an Islamist agenda, as some feared, many Syrians feel that they are falling short of creating an inclusive political order. The transition, at least so far, has seen a steady centralisation of power within former HTS ranks, with other political and social components having limited representation.3 Key decision-making bodies and security portfolios remain in the hands of a narrow circle, raising concerns among some that the political process that is ostensibly driving the transition is largely performative, intended more to tick boxes than to enable genuine participation.
One area where the interim authorities have faced particularly steep challenges is in asserting the state’s monopoly on the use of force. While the former rebel groups that participated in the offensive that overthrew the Assad regime have been formally integrated into the state’s security institutions, many of them retain most of their original structures and at times act on their own accord. Former rebel factions now make up the bulk of the army. Meanwhile, General Security – the body in charge of internal security throughout the country – draws heavily for its personnel from the former HTS forces in Idlib, the north-western province the erstwhile rebels held for many of the civil war years, though it also has large numbers of new recruits. Beyond the formal security apparatus, there are several armed actors that are outside and potentially hostile to central command, including former Assad regime elements, Druze factions in the south and the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) that control the north east.
Against this backdrop, this report focuses on two major outbreaks of violence that shook Syria over the course of the past year – one along the coast and in the centre in March, and another in Suweida province to the south of Damascus in July. In analysing the drivers of these two crises, the report warns that failure to make course corrections could lead to fresh crises of even greater magnitude, undermining efforts to build a stable new political order. It also offers recommendations for steps the interim authorities might take to avoid such escalations in the future and help external actors might offer toward this end. The report does not look at developments in the north east, which forthcoming Crisis Group publications will examine in detail.
The report is based on some 135 interviews with people with firsthand knowledge of events in the coastal areas and the south, such as former regime military and security officers, interim government officials, factional commanders, fighters with Druze militias and irregular groups, community leaders, civil society figures, lawyers, medical staff, activists and ordinary residents. The interviewees included 30 women, reflecting the gender imbalance in positions of political and social leadership. International officials and Syrian experts comprised some 40 additional interlocutors. Most of the interviews related to the March events took place between February and May 2025; interviews related to the fighting in the south were conducted in April and July-August, with follow-up interviews in the autumn.
Roundabout where a statue of former President Hafez al-Assad used to stand, Homs city, February 2025. CRISIS GROUP
II.
The Ingredients of Instability
The drivers of violence in March and July were related to both what is happening in the Syrian state and what is happening in Syrian society after over a decade of internationalised civil war, whose security, political and humanitarian implications continue to shape conditions today. The interim government has often struggled to ensure public safety outside Damascus, with overstretched forces whose discipline appears uneven, including in Syria’s central and coastal areas, where the civil war’s legacy continues to weigh heavily.
At the same time, intercommunal tensions have festered. While many Syrians continue to feel a palpable sense of relief that Assad is gone, his rule left more than enough lingering bitterness to go around. Some who belong to communities that were on the receiving end of regime atrocities harbour a desire for retribution, particularly against Alawites, whom many hold collectively responsible for Assad’s crimes, given their over-representation in the former regime’s repressive apparatus. Alawites, in turn, feel unprotected by the new rulers and fear unjust collective punishment. These grievances play into the hands of insurgents in the core Alawite areas on the coast and in nearby mountains.
It is thus hardly surprising that just days after Assad’s fall, attacks on Alawites and other minorities commenced, particularly in the central regions of Homs and Hama, often motivated by desire for revenge for the former regime’s misdeeds. In parallel, remnants of the former regime forces fired sporadically on the new state’s troops, hitting checkpoints or ambushing patrols that were pursuing former regime officials. By February, these operations were showing an increasing degree of coordination. Nor is what has transpired purely a story of tensions between the Sunni Arab majority and the Alawite, and later Druze, minorities: while polling in April showed broad nationwide support for the new leadership, many Syrians – particularly among minority and secular constituencies – report feeling unsafe, under-represented and sceptical of the new authorities.4 Many are also nervous about the new leadership’s ideological background, fearing a drift toward an authoritarian order underpinned by Islamist tenets, which will leave no room for diversity, be it religious, ethnic or political.5
Alawite neighbourhood, Homs city, February 2025. CRISIS GROUP
A.
Lack of Security
After Assad’s fall, HTS quickly established security in the capital, but it was unable to fully do so everywhere.6 Even before the interim government formally dismantled the Assad regime’s security apparatus in late January, it sent most of the personnel home, to the extent they had not already spontaneously left their posts as the old regime collapsed.7 Districts like the coastal region, and the centrally located Hama and Homs governorates (including Homs city), areas with highly diverse populations, which include minorities such as Alawites, Christians and Ismailis, posed a distinct challenge: the civil war was particularly ferocious in these areas, leaving many people desiring retribution.
Damascus simply could not secure the whole country, as its forces, though it sought to augment them, were too small.8 Their numbers expanded rapidly thanks to a national recruitment drive, with a foreign ministry official claiming in late February that General Security had doubled its personnel since December, but building a sufficiently big and coherent force was clearly going to take time.9 Limited staffing remained a nationwide problem, with regions such as Aleppo, Hama and Deir al-Zor also seeing violence.10
At the time it faced the coastal uprising in March, the government had three layers of forces at its disposal. The former HTS elements now formally integrated into the army (led by former HTS commanders) and into General Security (comprising the units that HTS had relied on for policing and intelligence functions in Idlib) constituted the first layer, which was closest to the political leadership.11 The second layer comprised Sunni Islamist factions such as Ahrar al-Sham, Faylaq al-Sham and Jaysh al-Izza, which HTS had subdued during its rule over Idlib.12 The third layer included the constitutive groups of the Syrian National Army (SNA), another collection of erstwhile rebels who had largely been backed by the Turkish army during the civil war. While formally answering to the defence ministry in Damascus, some of these groups were still on the Turkish payroll months into 2025, and preserved much of their original structure, limiting the ministry’s sway over them.13
Most violent incidents before March appeared to involve either criminals or elements of the third tier of the HTS-led apparatus, ie, the former SNA factions, and not General Security.14 Yet those at the receiving end could not always tell the difference.15 Assailants would often claim affiliation with General Security and HTS to deter bystanders from intervening. When General Security began wearing uniforms replete with identification numbers, the impostors promptly donned genuine-looking fakes. Good-faith efforts by the official force to build trust, such as there were, thus often fell flat.16
Nor did government troops’ comportment always inspire confidence. In some cases, General Security reportedly used ham-fisted tactics that alienated the population. Homs residents say General Security squads looking for suspected former regime enforcers often drove unmarked cars with tinted windows, making it difficult if not impossible to distinguish between formal arrests and kidnappings. A local mediator in Homs said his first step after a reported arrest was invariably to verify that it was indeed the authorities who had apprehended the person.17 On more than one occasion, government forces sent after fugitive regime elements entered villages and neighbourhoods in large convoys, shooting in the air and instilling fear among minorities already wary of the new rulers.18
The picture was not entirely negative, though. As tensions continued to mount between December and February, the new authorities took mitigation measures. A General Security officer in Homs said his unit received instructions on 2 January to fire only if fired upon and otherwise show restraint (a seemingly basic step that nevertheless contrasted favourably with the shoot-in-the-air tactics previously reported).19 Discipline was particularly important during searches for former regime figures in Alawite-majority neighbourhoods. In Latakia and Tartous, officials said that outreach to the Alawite community was a priority, while acknowledging the importance of defusing disputes between Alawite and Sunni residents. A Sunni sheikh in Latakia said the authorities had helped resolve such disagreements.20 In parts of rural Hama, local authorities reported taking similar measures. An Alawite villager said General Security had set up checkpoints to prevent attacks by Sunni neighbours.21
In some cases, residents of coastal and central Syria began to reciprocate with shows of support for the authorities. On 24 January, for instance, word circulated that Bashar al-Assad’s brother Maher would return to Syria with 5,000 fighters to launch an insurgency. Residents massed at a checkpoint in western Hama to reassure the HTS guards that they were on the new rulers’ side. They stayed overnight, until the rumour was debunked.22 But improved relations in some places did not suffice to stem the steady deterioration of security in most of these areas, creating a sense of existential threat that rose highest among Alawites living in the central plain around Homs and Hama.23 Women were particularly fearful, as they faced increasing gender-based harassment and danger, restricting their mobility, especially in Homs and along the coast.24
Sunni neighbourhood in Homs where residents continue adapting to daily life amid widespread destruction, Homs city, February 2025. CRISIS GROUP
B.
The Legacy of Civil War
Minorities, particularly Alawites, have borne the brunt of insecurity in post-Assad Syria. Retribution is the main driver: many Syrians blame Alawites as a group for the atrocities committed under the Assad dynasty’s rule over five decades.25 As part of its survival strategy, the old regime kept society fragmented by cultivating vertical ties with various constituencies through patronage while systematically suppressing the emergence of an independent civil society or other connections that spanned sectarian and ethnic cleavages. Alawite men often got favoured treatment in the form of appointments in the security services and military hierarchy.26 The Assad regime exploited these rifts during the civil war, as a means of rallying loyalists against those who backed the rebellion or were perceived as doing so.
Some elite military units like the Republican Guard and the 4th Division were almost entirely Alawite. Elements of these forces committed atrocities against civilians, most of whom were Sunni, as they sought to crush the uprising against Assad’s rule that began in 2011, reinforcing Alawites’ association with the regime in popular perceptions.27 In mixed areas such as Homs, the regime’s intelligence agencies fostered the militarisation of Alawite neighbourhoods by creating “popular committees”, which it set against Sunni residents. Thus, Sunnis increasingly saw Alawites as regime supporters, which in turn impressed on Alawites that if the regime were to fall, they would likely be targeted in reprisal.28
The Assad regime also actively prevented the emergence of Alawite representative structures separate from the state like those that serve other religious groups in Syria, such as Sunnis, Christians, Ismailis and Druze.29 As a result, when the regime collapsed, the Alawites had no obvious leadership with which the new rulers could enter dialogue and that could authoritatively disavow the fallen regime in the community’s name.30
This lack of communal representation became a significant problem following Assad’s overthrow. Some Syrians, hearing no pronouncement from Alawite leaders after the regime’s demise, took it as a sign of enduring complicity with Assad. In February, non-Alawite activists in Homs expressed anger at what they perceived as the Alawite community’s silence. One commented, “Until today, no one, no local official, no civil society representative has come forward to say, ‘We apologise’”.31
Such perceptions fed sectarian resentment that in turn fuelled insecurity. Many of the killings and kidnappings after December 2024 took place in Homs and its western countryside, areas where Alawite and Sunni neighbourhoods and villages sit cheek by jowl. Attackers often tried to identify residents as Alawites with clues such as names and birthplaces. In mid-December, a firefighter accompanying an army patrol said he had collected around 30 bodies in the streets of Homs in just one day, all of people who were killed in such attacks.32 Over fifteen days the following February, nineteen Alawites were kidnapped, many of whom were later found dead.33
Some evidence suggests that the absence of transparent accountability for former regime officials has contributed to an atmosphere where Alawites are at risk.
Some evidence suggests that the absence of transparent accountability for former regime officials has contributed to an atmosphere where Alawites are at risk.34 Fady Sakr, former head of the National Defence Forces, a pro-regime militia that allegedly perpetrated numerous atrocities, has resurfaced in an official capacity linked to “civil peace” initiatives.35 At the same time, and despite abundant references by the leadership to the old regime’s crimes, victims have received no compensation, leaving many feeling forgotten or dismissed.36 Since there have been no formal measures, some of the aggrieved appear to view attacks on any Alawite person as justified. Criminals apparently at times go after Alawites because they consider them the most vulnerable to predation; the criminals may claim to be seeking retribution for regime abuses to discourage intervention.37
Fuelling such tensions is a surge of online disinformation. The collapse of Assad-era censorship allowed for freer expression, but it also unleashed hate speech, disinformation and inflammatory rhetoric. Assad loyalists began taking advantage, exaggerating or fabricating reports of sectarian violence that they framed as government-sanctioned ethnic cleansing, thus discouraging minorities from cooperating with the new authorities.38
Former regime loyalists have increasingly seized upon incidents of violence against Alawite women in particular to amplify Islamophobic and anti-government narratives. In various outlets, they recycle claims of Alawite women being kidnapped or forced to marry Sunni militants, portraying Syria’s new rulers as extremists in the mould of the Islamic State.39 The head of a women’s rights organisation said women are caught in a sort of rhetorical crossfire between former regime loyalists, who exaggerate threats against women for political gain, and government supporters, who frequently downplay or deny incidents for fear of undermining the new authorities.40
The summary dismissal in January of the entire Assad-era security apparatus, reportedly some 500,000 personnel (the vast majority of them men), had a particularly harsh economic effect on Alawites, who were disproportionately represented in this sector due to the regime’s recruitment practices.41 Wives of officers reportedly also often lost their public-sector jobs, such as in education and health, after apparently being deemed guilty by association.42 For many, losing their jobs also entailed losing government-provided housing, leaving them no choice but to return to their birthplaces in the already troubled central and coastal areas. On 1 September, the authorities reinstated most non-security public-sector employees, but as of early November, inconsistencies remained. Those from the security sector remain excluded.43
The formal demobilisation process for dismissed security personnel, known as “clearance” (taswiya), seem to have created additional problems.44 At first, many feared a trap, leading to imprisonment or execution, if not attack en route to a clearance centre.45 Eventually, it became clear that while taswiya itself was safe, it did not always offer the promised benefit of freedom of movement for those who went through it.46 Guards at checkpoints would sometimes interpret clearance papers as evidence of complicity in the old regime’s crimes, exposing the bearer to the risk of arrest, kidnapping or even death.47 Consequently, thousands of dismissed personnel skipped the clearance process. They remained stuck in their home villages, hanging on to their arms.48
C.
The Seeds of Insurgency
Mass dismissals from the security forces created a large group of increasingly destitute men with few prospects in the new order. Armed and with military training, they formed a ready-made recruitment pool for insurgents seeking to exploit their bitterness and anomie. As a former regime army officer said, “We’re dying slowly. By picking up arms at least we die with dignity”.49
Officers of the ousted regime started enlisting insurgent fighters at a small scale in December 2024, but the initial response was lacklustre. Many potential recruits feared the new authorities’ wrath, as did the population in coastal and central areas. Interlocutors close to the insurgency said many locals would tell General Security if they thought someone was going to join. “The biggest threat to the budding insurgency was the Alawites themselves”, said an ex-soldier.50
Allegedly, a number of businesspeople loyal to the Assad family financed insurgent cells.
Nevertheless, recruitment gained traction as violent incidents, sometimes blown out of proportion by pro-Assad regime social media accounts, instilled a sense of existential threat in the community.51 Allegedly, a number of businesspeople loyal to the Assad family financed insurgent cells, as rumour spread that Russia would join the fray once the revolt got off the ground.52
Insurgent action first gained momentum following a widely publicised incident on 24 December 2024, when a Christmas tree was set on fire in Suqaylabiya, in western Hama, triggering protests. In several Syrian cities, Christians and others sympathising with their cause called upon the government to protect minorities. The impression that the new authorities were unwilling to do so lent the insurgency momentum.53 Two days later, footage of a burning Alawite shrine circulated on social media, sparking more unrest, before it was revealed that the video, while authentic, dated to the rebel offensive in Aleppo the previous November.54 The same day, Assad regime loyalists attacked a checkpoint in western Hama and laid an ambush in Tartous, killing fourteen General Security personnel who were trying to arrest the former head of the infamous Sednaya prison.55
Insurgents stepped up attacks in late February, perhaps calculating that a harsh government response would sway more Alawites to their side.56 Again, online disinformation heightened tensions. An incident in Qardaha, the Assad family’s ancestral home, offers an illustrative example. Former regime forces opened fire on a police station on 26 February, prompting government forces to set up a checkpoint in the town to search for those responsible. Online accounts portrayed these measures as indicating an impending attack, prompting residents to demand that government forces withdraw.57 Competing versions of what happened spread among local Sunnis and Alawites, leading people from both communities to stage parades with sectarian flags and chants in Latakia neighbourhoods.58
As suspicion of the new authorities mounted among non-Sunni Arab communities, the interim government’s limited communication with them hindered various counter-insurgency efforts. In Qardaha, government forces repeatedly moved to seize weapons and arrest figures linked to the former regime, but to no avail, as residents refrained from cooperating and instead tipped off the insurgents.59 The new authorities received ever less assistance from the population in identifying suspects or locating arms caches, while insurgents increasingly moved freely.
D.
Meanwhile, in Suweida
Snow-capped Mount Hermon rising above the Hauran Plain, seen from Qanawat village, Suweida, February 2025. CRISIS GROUP
As on the coast, a gradual degradation of relations between Damascus and residents of Suweida in the south preceded a slide into violence. The Druze, a religious minority concentrated in Suweida, had maintained a cautious détente with the Assad regime throughout the civil war – partly because the regime claimed to be protecting minorities from the excesses of Sunni Islamist groups.60 But the Druze also sought to preserve a degree of local autonomy. A series of protests starting in 2023, referred to as the “Druze uprising”, were sparked by economic decline and desire for a greater say in governance. These paved the way for armed Druze factions, in effect, to take control of the province, though with nominal regime oversight, roughly a year before the final rebel push toward Damascus in December 2024.61 The Druze factions joined this offensive as it gathered speed.
After Assad’s fall, the Druze factions signalled a willingness to work with the new authorities, despite concerns about their Islamist tendencies.62 Shortly before the March violence in Alawite areas, even Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri, one of the three most prominent Druze spiritual leaders, and the one most suspicious of the new rulers’ intentions, expressed readiness for “participation in the Syrian state”. He also renounced Israeli offers of protection.63 (Israel’s relationship with Syria’s Druze, discussed in more detail below, is a function of their kinship ties with Israel’s own Druze population, many of whom hold significant places in the Israeli army.) Numerous delegations from Suweida – including factional leaders, businesspeople, activists and other notables – travelled to Damascus for meetings with interim officials, including President Ahmed al-Sharaa, to exchange messages of reassurance.
Yet Damascus often handled these contacts in ways that disquieted rather than reassured potential partners in Suweida. Organisers of the February “national dialogue” conference excluded the Druze leadership from the preparatory committee, sending invitations instead to lower-level communal representatives, and conditioning participation on disarmament (a step most Druze factions were unprepared to take at this stage), in effect sidelining most Druze actors.64 Subsequent gestures, such as appointing Amjad Badr, who is Suweida-born but unaffiliated with a political or military movement in the province, as the sole Druze minister in the transitional government established on 29 March, were made without consulting political actors in the province. They therefore deepened perceptions that Damascus was making symbolic gestures meant to display commitment to diversity while in fact relying on pliant intermediaries.65
In parallel, Damascus tightened its grip on Suweida’s administrative institutions and services, appointing officials loyal to the leadership and dismissing hundreds of public-sector employees, a devastating move in a governorate with minimal private-sector opportunities. While the government took similar measures nationwide, it was not always perceived as such by Suweida locals, many of whom felt that the province was being singled out.66 At the same time, influential local figures appeared sidelined and a Damascus-aligned figure, Mustafa al-Bakour, was named governor, overriding the nomination of a prominent Suweida activist by community networks as well as Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri.
The massacres on the coast soured Druze on the new order to the point where many feared an existential threat to the community.
Druze factions resisted integration into the government’s security apparatus. A senior government official described this posture as mostly self-serving: according to his interpretation, Druze hardliners rejected a merger outright because they believed their leverage depended on keeping fighters under arms outside the state’s aegis. “We offered them [armed Druze factions] incorporation into the army with no conditions on their numbers and ranks … but they feared losing their influence”, the official said.67 Efforts by the interim authorities to work with more accommodating figures alienated the hardliners, while aggravating rivalries among Druze factions. Druze, by contrast, emphasise how Damascus sowed mistrust by bypassing local leaders, as in the national dialogue preparations and the appointment of a governor. The massacres on the coast soured Druze on the new order to the point where many feared an existential threat to the community.68
At the same time, Israel stepped up efforts to present itself as a protector of Syria’s Druze, providing itself with a seemingly humanitarian rationale for meddling in the country.69 Syrian Druze have ties with Druze in Israel, some of whom have prominent positions in the Israeli army; since December 2024, Israeli Druze leaders have increased contacts with their counterparts in Syria, as Israeli officials vowed to shield the Druze from alleged coercion by the interim authorities. Israeli forces, meanwhile, advanced beyond the 1974 disengagement line on the Golan Heights, creating a new buffer zone in the country’s south.
On 23 February, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu cautioned the Syrian interim government against deploying forces south of Damascus, while announcing Israel’s intention to “defend the Druze”.70 Days later, clashes broke out in Jaramana, a Druze-majority Damascus suburb, between Druze factions and government forces, leaving at least one officer dead. The next day, state forces staged raids that led to a civilian death. In response, Netanyahu and Defence Minister Israel Katz instructed the Israeli army to prepare to march on Jaramana, claiming that it was under attack.71 For Damascus, the rhetoric surrounding the incident signalled a new phase of Israeli encroachment in the south under the guise of solidarity with the Druze.72
Further violence in late April deepened the rift between Damascus and the Druze leadership. On 28 April, a leaked voice note cursing the Prophet Mohammad, wrongly attributed to a Druze religious figure, circulated online, triggering anti-Druze protests and hate speech throughout Syria.73 Pro-government Sunni armed groups attacked Jaramana; mortar fire and street battles left at least six Druze fighters and seven Sunni gunmen dead. General Security, working alongside Druze factions to defend the area from the Sunni armed groups, established a buffer zone around it.
But fighting resumed the next night in the nearby Druze-majority suburb of Ashrafiyet Sahnaya, killing scores more. Damascus began shifting the blame for the unrest onto the Druze factions, claiming that they – and not the Sunni attackers – were butting heads with General Security. Israel then intervened with airstrikes near the presidential palace, reportedly as a warning to Damascus. Interim government forces took control of Ashrafiyet Sahnaya, leading many locals to deduce that Damascus was exploiting the hostilities to consolidate power around the capital.74 By early May, over 100 people had been killed in clashes that extended along the road from Damascus to Suweida and well into the province itself. Thus, the heavy-handed response to the Suweida violence in July only further tore at relations that had already frayed.75 Seemingly seeking to bend the local leadership to their will through a mix of coercion and divide-and-rule, the authorities galvanised support for hardline figures and drove away or undermined potential partners, rather than empowering them to bring the Druze into the new national dispensation.
Druze traditional dancing, Qanawat village, Suweida, February 2025. CRISIS GROUP
III.
Understanding the March Atrocities
The March violence along the coast and in the centre thus occurred against the backdrop of Assad’s unresolved legacy and persistent insecurity. What began as a nascent insurgency quickly escalated into massacres of Alawite civilians, exposing deep fractures within the security apparatus and parts of Syrian society that have bedevilled the interim authorities during the political transition.
Fishing boats along the coast, Latakia city, 21 February 2025. CRISIS GROUP
A.
What Happened in March
In the afternoon of 6 March, former regime elements staged coordinated attacks on government forces in the coastal cities of Jableh and Baniyas, reportedly killing sixteen.76 The same day, a group calling itself the Military Council for the Liberation of Syria circulated on social media a pledge to overthrow the interim government.77 Many of the insurgents reportedly had been members of the old army’s elite 4th and 25th Divisions, two largely Alawite units that had allegedly perpetrated countless war crimes in spearheading many of the former regime’s offensives against rebel-held areas.78 The 6 March pledge bore the signature of Ghiath Dallah, a former 4th Division brigadier general under U.S. sanctions for his role in wartime atrocities.79 Already before March, former members of the 25th Division had regrouped under the banner of a so-called Coastal Shield Brigade commanded by Miqdad Fatiha; they now joined the Military Council.80 A number of area residents rallied to the insurgents’ side, using their own rifles to shoot at government troops from rooftops.81
The violence caught the government off guard. Damascus sent forces to the coast, largely from among the first tier of troops most loyal to the leadership, but they proved unable to contain the insurgency. At that point, the authorities dispatched reinforcements from the second and third tiers, with a far lower level of discipline (see Section II.A above), while others mobilised independently.82 Meanwhile, the Syrian Islamic Council, a body of Islamic scholars, staged demonstrations in several cities to summon all Syrians to stand up to what it described as “the sectarian manoeuvres of the Assad remnants”.83 Following such calls, thousands of irregulars under no one’s command picked up their own guns and poured toward the coast.84 In the ensuing battles, hundreds of fighters were killed on both sides, and insurgents briefly captured stretches of the two main coastal highways, M1 and M4. Over the course of 24 hours, the government got the upper hand and all but suppressed the revolt.85
But the situation was not yet resolved. Clashes persisted in Baniyas, as well as Latakia city and the surrounding countryside, throughout the next day. At the same time, on 7 March, armed groups descended on Alawite neighbourhoods and villages across the area, summarily executing hundreds.86 Violence raged for three days, with an array of government-aligned armed groups massacring Alawite civilians and looting and destroying properties. The operations in the countryside had largely halted by midday on 8 March, witnesses said, but not yet in other places. Convoys of armed men began withdrawing from coastal towns and Hama on 10 March, perpetrating more extrajudicial killings as they pulled back.87 The same day, the defence ministry announced the end of its operations along the coast.88
Who was responsible for the murder of civilians remains contested. Local officials say it was troops belonging to the third tier of the security apparatus, that is, those with the lowest level of discipline and the farthest removed from central control, along with ordinary people seeking revenge for wartime losses, who did most of the killing.89 They point in particular to the Sultan Suleiman Shah Brigade and Al-Hamza Division, both former SNA components, emphasising their past abuses and tendency to ignore commands from higher up.90 Other reporting (which government supporters in turn dispute) also suggests involvement of General Security in the violence.91 Eyewitnesses were mostly unable to identify the perpetrators, many of whom were masked, as belonging to particular groups or units, instead referring to “factions” and “armed civilians” as the culprits.92 Some interlocutors also said members of General Security had perpetrated extrajudicial killings, albeit at a much lesser scale than the SNA fighters.93 Local accounts also indicate that some of the attackers were residents of villages that had suffered atrocities at the hands of Assad’s forces in the civil war’s early years.94
It seems clear that in response to the insurgent attacks [along the coast and in the countryside], Damascus sent in troops it could not sufficiently control.
Regardless of which of these politically charged narratives is closer to the truth, it seems clear that in response to the insurgent attacks, Damascus sent in troops it could not sufficiently control. It did not prevent self-mobilised fighters from heading en masse for the coast, and it did not stop the massacres for nearly three days after government officials acknowledged that abuses were occurring.95
In contrast to its failures along the coast (and in some central areas as well), General Security acted swiftly to protect Alawites in the city of Homs. As violence erupted, Sunni residents appeared in the streets bearing arms, but General Security formed a cordon around Alawite neighbourhoods to ward off attacks.96 It may have been more effective in Homs partly because the armed groups most likely to cause trouble were busy on the coast, and partly because it was aware of the potential for trouble there after the rising violence of the preceding months. Together, these factors helped prevent a new round of bloodshed in a city where nerves are still raw due to brutal wartime violence between Alawites and Sunnis.97
In the aftermath of the March violence, Syria’s interim president, al-Sharaa, condemned it and vowed to hold those responsible accountable. Multiple investigations were launched by the government, civil society and journalistic outfits, generating estimates ranging from 1,000 to 1,700 Alawite civilians killed in Latakia, Tartous and Hama provinces on 6-10 March. While the vast majority of the dead were men, over two hundred women and children were also among the victims.98 Nearly 40,000 Syrians sought refuge in Lebanon during and following the massacres.99
Al-Sharaa also appointed a fact-finding mission, composed entirely of men, which included five judges, an army officer and a lawyer to document violations, identify perpetrators and recommend accountability measures within 30 days, later extended to three months.100 The committee presented its findings at a press conference on 22 July.101 While it acknowledged widespread attacks on civilians, it seemed to diffuse responsibility by portraying the massacres as occurring during a chaotic popular uprising that involved up to 200,000 armed men and in which state forces, cast as agents of order, were simply unable to contain the violence. The report attributed the abuses largely to revenge for insurgent raids, downplaying their sectarian dimension. Many Syrians critical of the government dismissed the report as a whitewash.102 Meanwhile, families of the victims say they live in fear that another massacre could occur at any time.103
In an important step toward accountability, public trials of alleged perpetrators of violence in coastal areas began in mid-November. Half the fourteen defendants were insurgents tied to the former regime, while the other half were members of the new government’s forces.104
B.
The Aftermath
Syria’s Alawite community remains on edge. While most opposed the insurgency, many also blame the government for the massacres. Even those who do not hold the government directly responsible for the bloodshed argue that Damascus created the conditions for it by sending or encouraging armed factions not fully under government control to put down the insurgency, while failing to protect civilians.105 For many, the March violence eroded trust in the government, transforming General Security from a perceived protector into something viewed, at best, as the lesser of two evils, the greater one being the ex-SNA factions integrated into the army.106 Confidence in General Security evaporated not only because of its failure to safeguard civilians but also owing to reports that some of its personnel had participated in the atrocities. Families of victims also feel that the government has made no serious effort to hold perpetrators accountable or to signal that such abuses will not recur.
The fear is palpable. While most internally displaced civilians returned home, many of the Syrians who fled to Lebanon remain abroad, and many Alawites who stayed in Syria say they want to leave because they think more violence may be in the offing.107
Continued attacks on Alawite civilians add to the anxiety of many.
Continued attacks on Alawite civilians add to the anxiety of many. More abuses by armed factions outside General Security took place weeks after the major violence ceased. Since July, the government has introduced measures intended to be corrective – including reducing the number of checkpoints, changing the guard at certain locations (such as by replacing defence with interior ministry staff) and arresting individuals linked to earlier violations.108 These steps have helped curb overt misconduct by government-affiliated forces but seem to have done little to bolster the security apparatus in performing its appointed task of protecting the vulnerable. Minorities thus remain exposed to recurring violations by non-state armed actors and dangers resulting from intercommunal tensions. In central governorates such as Homs and Hama, particularly in rural districts, Alawites are still reporting instances of harassment, kidnapping and extrajudicial killing.109
This persistent insecurity has also deepened the socio-economic aftershocks of the March violence, which have disproportionately affected women. Since most of the fatalities were men, the number of women-headed households has increased. Beyond the trauma of loss, the absence of male family members in a patriarchal society has left these households exposed to external pressures, such as exploitation by relatives or neighbours seeking to appropriate property, land, harvests or money. It has also increased the risk of gender-based violence and harassment. Interlocutors said women were berated when attempting to obtain death certificates, with public employees at the civil registry referring to their deceased husbands and sons as “traitors” and “insurgents”.110 The death of male family members also often means that the main breadwinner is gone, undermining economic stability in a society where men are traditionally expected to fulfil this role. Some of the women who have lost husbands and sons are also afraid to return to their jobs after the massacres.
IV.
What Happened in Suweida
The clashes in the southern Suweida province in mid-July had echoes of the March violence along the coast and in the centre. Troops supposedly deployed to end a local conflict reportedly engaged in sectarian abuse, while thousands of armed irregulars rushed to the troubled area. Faced with what to them looked like an impending repeat of the coastal killings, Druze leaders, some of whom had previously been prepared to compromise with Damascus, instead closed ranks, fought back and even accepted Israeli protection.
A.
Another Crisis
Starting on 11 July, a conflict pitting Druze against members of the Bedouin communities in Suweida province escalated into broader violence. Clashes between Druze armed groups and Bedouin militias were triggered when Bedouin gunmen beat and robbed a Druze merchant, prompting a retaliatory kidnapping by Druze factions. The initial firefights left dozens dead, including civilians, and displaced numerous villagers.111 Reports described arbitrary killing, looting and burning, with most of it visited upon Druze.112 Meanwhile, Druze factions besieged the Bedouin-majority al-Maqwas neighbourhood of Suweida city.
When the Syrian government finally intervened on 14 July, it deployed massively, seizing areas on the outskirts of Suweida city, which resulted in major casualties.113 Shortly after their deployment, several army and security personnel were killed when government units came under attack by Druze armed groups, further accelerating the escalation.114 Spearheading the operation was the army’s 42nd Division, previously implicated in the violence on the coast.115 Damascus may have felt emboldened by its talks with the U.S. and Israel, perceiving that it had a green light to send troops south, which Israel had previously said it should not do.116 A senior security official told Crisis Group that government forces intervened to contain the clashes, and to prevent escalation, as tribal elements were mobilising across the country, stressing that Damascus did not want a “coastal-style scenario”.117 Yet many Druze viewed the move as the government siding with the Bedouin to assert control of the region, a perception reinforced by state-run media references to Druze factions as “outlaw groups”.118
To stop the fighting, Druze spiritual leaders on 15 July endorsed a deal under which Druze fighters would stand down and the state would restore calm, but the truce collapsed within hours, with prominent figures, including Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri, calling on Druze factions to resume the fight.119 Accounts of the reason for the breakdown differ sharply, with government supporters claiming treachery by al-Hijri and his supporters.120 The latter, by contrast, insist that while they were still negotiating the operational details of the ceasefire, government troops and government-affiliated armed factions moving into Suweida city started to engage in sectarian killings and other violence. Fear spread of atrocities like those on the coast in March. Execution-style murders of Druze civilians, including medical staff and patients, by government troops at the National Hospital in Suweida city deepened the dread.121
The same day, Israel followed through on its previous pledges to “protect the Druze”, firing missiles at government tanks in Suweida city and the province’s western countryside.122 In parallel, Druze fighters pushed back into the city, prompting Damascus to call for additional reinforcements from the army and security forces.123 On 16 July, Israel escalated further, striking the defence ministry and near the presidential palace in Damascus, seemingly to deter the government from a full-scale assault on the Druze factions in Suweida.124
The withdrawal of government forces initiated a new round of fighting.
Behind the scenes, U.S., Arab and Turkish mediators moved quickly to keep the situation from escalating out of control. On 17 July, President al-Sharaa, thanking those mediators, announced that local security would be handed back to Druze forces and that government troops would depart.125 Yet, even then, the violence did not subside. The withdrawal of government forces initiated a new round of fighting, with Druze factions staging attacks on Bedouin, including systematic killings, looting and forced displacement of civilians, in what appeared to be an effort to expel Bedouin residents from the area.126
In response, Bedouin tribal leaders called in reinforcements, prompting another wave of mobilisation of non-state armed actors aligned with the government from across the country, including Aleppo, Hama, Homs, Deir al-Zor and Idlib, who launched an assault on Druze fighters and pushed toward Suweida city.127 On 18 July, Damascus sent in General Security forces, after Israel signalled that it would tolerate a limited garrison in the south, an agreement endorsed by the Druze leadership.128 While this deployment succeeded in ending most of the fighting, Druze, Bedouin and government troops continued to face off – all blaming each other for failing to achieve a permanent solution. The humanitarian situation in the city has been troubling. While access and aid delivery has improved somewhat since July, shortages of food, water, fuel, medical supplies and electricity remain a cause for concern, as does displacement.129
On 16 September, the government, the U.S. and Jordan, which borders Suweida, agreed on a roadmap to stabilise the province and reintegrate its institutions into the state. The plan calls for a UN investigation into the July violence, reopening the Suweida-Damascus road, restoring services, and forming an inclusive local police and provincial council, along with pursuing security understandings with Israel.130 As discussions about the roadmap did not include Druze communal leaders, some see it as imposed on Suweida.131 Some locals protested the roadmap, while the Supreme Legal Committee rejected its core provisions and persisted with calls for “self-determination or secession”.132
On the ground, in any case, implementation of the roadmap has been limited at best.133 As of the end of October, the situation in Suweida was largely unchanged. Suweida’s governor said the interior ministry has deployed troops to secure the road leading to Damascus. But other aspects of the plan are advancing slowly, he said, due to shortages of work crews and weak coordination between provincial and central authorities, as well as what he described as Druze factions’ obstruction of aid deliveries and the return of displaced residents.134 On 28 October, gunmen attacked a passenger bus on the Damascus-Suweida highway, killing two and injuring several, underscoring the continued insecurity.135 As of mid-November, Druze factions and government forces were again clashing in Suweida, with the sides trading blame for violating the ceasefire.136
B.
Assessment
While the triggers of unrest in Suweida differed from those along the coast, the government’s response followed a similar pattern in both cases, reflecting flaws in its security strategy. This approach eroded state legitimacy and deepened sectarian divisions, thereby potentially undermining efforts to reintegrate parts of Syria that are still outside government control, particularly in the north east, by non-violent means.
In both cases, local violence – initiated by a nascent insurgency on the coast and arising from intercommunal discord in Suweida – prompted a heavy-handed government response. Though this response was aimed at restoring order, it escalated rather than defused the crisis. In Suweida, the government’s deployment of two divisions (one equipped with heavy armour) appeared disproportionate to the actual problem and alarmed locals who were already suspicious of Damascus. With the events on the coast still fresh in mind, it seemed to take only a few reports of abuses to convince Druze leaders that they were facing an existential threat, prompting them to rally around hardline figures.137
The political effects of the July crisis linger. After reversing his previous interest in finding a viable compromise with Damascus, Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri moved toward explicitly calling for Israeli protection and asking for Druze self-determination.138 The confrontation with government troops has generated broad popular support for these positions among Druze in Suweida, sidelining those willing to cooperate with Damascus and support the state’s monopoly of violence. Under al-Hijri’s auspices, a number of Druze leaders have come together in a de facto governing body in Suweida named the Supreme Legal Committee, while all the armed Druze factions have consolidated under the umbrella of a “national guard”, also supported by al-Hijri. Meanwhile, the space for Suweida’s vibrant civil society has narrowed, with reports that elements aligned with al-Hijri have tried to intimidate his critics.139
The government’s pronouncements on accountability in the aftermath met with scepticism. The 22 July press conference to present the results of the investigation into the March violence, held amid the Suweida crisis, was viewed by many minority representatives as a diversion, and the subsequent announcement of a similar fact-finding committee for Suweida also got a tepid response.140 Meanwhile, official narratives concerning the Suweida events appear to focus blame on the Druze armed factions, with President al-Sharaa praising Bedouin tribal fighters for “standing by the state”, while continuing to refer to Druze factions as “outlaw groups”.141 In what could signal a course correction, however, the government has since agreed to allow the UN Commission of Inquiry to investigate the Suweida events, which launched its probe in late September. So far, investigators have met with victims’ families and witnesses, after the government provided full access.142
In the end, the bloodshed in Suweida and on the coast widened communal divides and deepened the sense of existential threat among both the Druze and the Alawites. In the absence of state protection, many in these communities have gravitated toward belligerent elements. Interlocutors indicate that anti-government figures, such as Druze Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri and the Alawite Council’s Sheikh Ghazal Ghazal, have gained traction, at the expense of others who are more willing to give the government a hearing.143 For their part, a broad range of people in north-eastern Syria, including SDF representatives, independent civil society figures and opponents of the Kurdish-dominated Autonomous Administration, cite the Suweida episode as a cautionary tale. Damascus, they say, cannot be allowed to take control of their area.144
V.
Maintaining Security in Post-Assad Syria
The remarkable rapprochement with the U.S. and other Western countries, the lifting of sanctions and the warm reception at the UN for President al-Sharaa in September, and at the White House in November, all reflect a staggering amount of progress in bringing an isolated Damascus in from the cold. Much of this diplomatic turnaround was aided by regional actors – particularly Saudi Arabia, Qatar and Türkiye – which championed Syria’s reintegration and helped pave the way for renewed dialogue with Western governments. Indeed, so much has gone better than could have been imagined, even a year ago, that it is tempting to overlook the things that are going less well or to write them off as extraneous details. But the security lapses that led to surges of violence in March and July are more serious than that. They bespeak problems that exist far outside the affected areas and may jeopardise efforts to reintegrate Syria under central rule.
Among the biggest threats to the transition is the perception among many Syrians that they need to remain armed and even solicit foreign backing to protect themselves and their stake in post-Assad Syria. These impressions are dangerous to efforts to stabilise the coast and Suweida. Nor will they help the fraught process of reintegrating north-eastern Syria, which is under the control of the Kurdish-dominated SDF, into the Syrian state’s administrative structures and the SDF itself into the Syrian army.
Consecutive unaddressed security failures can also create the conditions for recurrence. For the reasons explained, the severity of the unrest in Suweida clearly owed a great deal to the March coastal violence and the April clashes in Druze-majority suburbs of Damascus. For this reason, Damascus needs to focus both on making structural reforms and on shoring up stability in Suweida.
A.
Structural Recommendations
1.
Security reforms
As both the March and July episodes demonstrated, the interim authorities need to address flaws in the security apparatus. They face an immense task: rebuilding institutions after decades of authoritarian rule and civil war. Building a stable security apparatus requires asserting a genuine monopoly over the use of force. Damascus should establish complete command of all units integrated into the state forces. So far, Damascus has taken several encouraging steps, including centralising recruitment for the army and General Security, as well as tightening vetting procedures for the latter. Salaries that were previously paid directly by Türkiye to some of the ex-SNA factions now instead go to the defence ministry, which disburses them, increasing the government’s control of these groups.145 Still, much more remains to be done.
An area where there has been progress but there is room for more is the stationing of army units with records of abuse. To its credit, Damascus appears to have moved some of the units held in the worst opprobrium away from the coast – including the Sultan Suleiman Shah Brigade, now the 62nd Division (which was sent to Hama province early in the year) and the Hamzat Division, now the 76th Division (which was dispatched to Aleppo).146 Moreover, following the Suweida clashes, the 42nd Division (which has a similarly troubling reputation) went back to its main base in the Syrian desert.147
While these are good steps, Damascus might also consider relocating the Sultan Suleiman Shah Brigade away from parts of north-western Hama where the communal mix could lead to tensions. Using these army units to intervene in such places, where memories of civil strife are often fresh, would be a recipe for disaster – even more so if the government does not prevent self-mobilised armed irregulars from joining in.
Moreover, just removing these units is insufficient to restore security to the coast or to central Syria. Violence – kidnappings and killings, mostly of Alawites – remains at a disturbingly high level.148 The state’s failure to provide protection remains a potential rallying cry for insurgents who claim that officials motivated by sectarianism are colluding with the perpetrators.149 Part of the solution could involve addressing the shortage of security personnel that the government continues to face despite accelerated recruitment in the past months. In early November, an interior ministry spokesman said “tens of thousands” have joined General Security, which was originally 8,000 strong. Nonetheless, he said, Damascus still needs to triple this body’s size, highlighting the massive task ahead.150
Damascus should consider recruiting people from all constituencies to police their own places of origin.
In addressing this shortfall, Damascus should consider recruiting people from all constituencies to police their own places of origin. Doing so would serve a dual purpose: harnessing locals’ knowledge of neighbourhood dynamics would help in identifying genuine threats and avoiding errors of judgment that might lead officers working in unfamiliar places they perceive as hostile to respond to incidents with a heavy hand. Locally rooted personnel may also be better able to contain mundane conflicts – eg, over property ownership or land and agricultural rights – before they escalate to acquire a political dimension. Indeed, in its first months after coming to power, the interim government was already involving locals in security provision in Aleppo and Damascus – with success that it could try to replicate elsewhere.151
Damascus should also be open to vetting and rehiring former regular police officers, of course screening out those with poor human rights records.152 Many have no such record but do have valuable skills, including in mediating disputes, as well as local knowledge. At the very least, they have more experience than new General Security recruits, who receive only ten to fifteen days of training before they are deployed.153 While any such forces will need training and a degree of rehabilitation – for instance, to avoid the resumption of prior practices involving petty corruption – building on their previous experience might yield faster results than preparing new recruits – and in ensuring public safety, time seems of the essence.
In parallel, efforts to improve force discipline, which appear to be under way in central and coastal areas, should be stepped up. In some localities, close coordination with community representatives appears to be yielding significant improvement.154 Scaling up such efforts and adopting them systematically could be a path toward more effective local policing.
2.
Accountability
Accountability is also crucial, both for post-war attacks on Alawites and Druze and for Assad-era abuses. Moving slowly to hold perpetrators of the March atrocities to account for months created an impression of impunity, which added to the trepidation of the Druze leadership as some of the reportedly implicated forces were sent into their areas. Repeating that pattern after the Suweida episode could spell more trouble elsewhere.
At the same time, many Syrians believe that numerous former regime officials have got away scot-free despite having committed serious crimes. A credible justice process could reduce the motivation for people to take matters into their own hands and the appeal of armed groups that, whether motivated by sectarian bigotry or greed, seek to exploit this sentiment to justify their own abuses. Prosecuting high-ranking former officials implicated in regime atrocities, or prominent war profiteers, would send an important signal, even if a broader reckoning will take time. Importantly, any mechanism for addressing Assad-era crimes must be designed to focus on individual criminal responsibility, not collective or communal guilt, and pursued in a way that assures Alawites that their community is not being subjected to vindictive prosecutions. The sequencing of these efforts is therefore critical. To provide this assurance and defuse tensions, accountability mechanisms should be clearly framed and potentially phased alongside broader reconciliation and confidence-building measures, demonstrating from the outset that the goal is forward-looking justice, not retribution.
In mid-May, President al-Sharaa took a step in this direction, announcing formation of a Transitional Justice Commission tasked to investigate post-2011 abuses by the Assad regime and to provide recommendations for prosecution, in coordination with the justice and interior ministries. By early August, the Commission had finished writing its internal regulations, formed a team and begun coordinating with Interpol for the handover of war criminals, to pursue accountability for regime figures.155 Yet its establishment by presidential decree, rather than legislation (not an option in the absence of a parliament), has raised concerns about its impartiality and about whether crimes perpetrated by HTS and its precursor, Jabhat al-Nusra, will be investigated.156
To maximise legitimacy and credibility, it must be clear that accountability does not amount to doling out victor’s justice.
To maximise legitimacy and credibility, it must be clear that accountability does not amount to doling out victor’s justice. The former regime, with its vast security apparatus, was undoubtedly responsible for most of the atrocities during the civil war, yet the government should clarify that the Commission’s mandate covers abuses by all sides. The Commission should also involve representative civil society organisations from across the country, including women-led groups, that have documented abuses by all sides in the civil war. To be effective in promoting reconciliation, transitional justice must go hand in hand with initiatives aimed at repairing social cohesion, addressing intercommunal grievances and providing compensation for victims. It will be equally important to hold those responsible for the March and July violence to account, to demonstrate that the new authorities will not tolerate crimes committed by those under their command, even if only nominally.157
While there is far to go, the mid-November opening of the first trial for fourteen participants in the coastal violence, seven of them members for the new government’s forces and seven of them insurgents, is a promising step toward accountability.158 Around the same time, the authorities arrested several members of government forces on charges of involvement in abuses in Suweida.159
3.
Inclusion, opportunity and donor support
Accountability is a necessary but not sufficient condition to rebuild trust in the government that has been undermined by the violence. Syrians with secular and liberal leanings see a direct connection between the leadership’s exclusionary attitude and the repeated security breakdowns.160 The concentration of power in the hands of a small coterie of former HTS commanders has clearly alienated many, not only among minorities. Appointing minority members (and just one woman) to ministries, along with granting limited representation in the new parliament, is unlikely to address the trust deficit.
When growing parts of the population believe that they will have no say and perhaps no place in Syria’s future, the likelihood increases that contentious issues, such as conflicting visions of the social order or the internal organisation of the state, will lead to violent conflict. The room for compromise recedes. Conversely, reaching out to those who now feel excluded and opening the forthcoming stages of the transition to broader participation could help dispel distrust in the authorities, which in turn might improve the chances of meeting security challenges in a non-escalatory fashion.161
The economic dimension will also be crucial for restoring security. Syria will not be able to break out of cycles of violence until the economy generates more job opportunities for its citizens. With extreme poverty on the rise, many, especially armed groups, could remain engaged in smuggling, for instance what remains of the trade in Captagon, an illicit stimulant, or in providing armed protection for such activities. Absent alternatives, unemployed former members of the military and the security services are vulnerable to recruitment by armed groups or criminals with disposable funds.
That said, improvements in security cannot wait until the economy picks up. To avoid a breakdown of public order, the Syrian state urgently needs cash infusions. Western governments may be reluctant, or even legally unable, to fund the interim government’s forces directly, but others can. Saudi Arabia and Qatar have started transferring money for public-sector salaries, and they should continue doing so. In September, they committed to a monthly grant of $28 million for three months, with the possibility of extension, to be allocated to civilian public-sector salaries, including health care and education, in coordination with the UN Development Programme, highlighting the scale of need.162 Supporting other budget lines, such as salaries for civil servants, and the health and education sectors, would allow the government to allocate more of its scant resources to security provision.163
Impoverished Alawite neighbourhood, Homs city, February 2025. CRISIS GROUP
But paying regular salaries may not suffice to professionalise Syria’s police and General Security. External actors should also provide training and advice to build up the interim government’s capacity to respond to security threats and manage communal tensions.164 Particularly important are the daily interactions between security forces and civilians at the checkpoints that dot the country. Procedures at the checkpoints vary widely, with the guards’ conduct ranging from respectful to near predatory. The authorities should hold all personnel to the highest standard, but outside actors may be able to help as well.165 Assistance aimed at improving these forces’ professionalism can help reduce the risk of future violence. Work is under way: Saudi Arabia and Qatar are helping train interior ministry personnel; Türkiye continues to provide security advice to the defence ministry; and the UK is in talks with the same ministry to offer technical support.166
Donors may be tempted to condition such assistance on milestones in the political transition, but that approach appears risky. Many benchmarks may not be achievable in the short term, and renewed violence could derail the entire process. At the same time, these external actors should clearly signal to Damascus that failure to tighten its forces’ discipline will compromise the good-will it now enjoys and constrain the political space Western governments have to offer support. Without using strict conditionality, they should press for improvements in compliance with international humanitarian and human rights law, including an end to arbitrary detentions, and accountability for abuses.167
Donors should likewise support the emergence of a vibrant civil society. While civil society organisations in parts of Syria that fell outside the former regime’s control received substantial international aid, the scope for independent activity in regime-held areas remained circumscribed. The legacy is particularly apparent among Alawites, leaving the community poorly equipped to advocate for meeting collective needs or gaining access to resources. Nor can it easily engage in intercommunal dialogue to bridge social rifts and help prevent violent escalation. To help fill the gap, donors and UN agencies should engage directly with communities on the coast. With targeted assistance, including for intercommunal dialogue initiatives on the coast and in Suweida, local civil society organisations could offer peaceful avenues for engagement. They could also help direct discontent into channels other than violent resistance to the new government.
As concerns sanctions: while the U.S. has moved with impressive speed in getting rid of many penalties, Congress has been more reluctant to lift the “Caesar sanctions” put in place to punish the Assad regime for human rights abuses, instead issuing successive 180-day waivers. After meeting with al-Sharaa during his visit to the U.S., Representative Brian Mast, chair of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, indicated his willingness to repeal the sanctions in their entirety, though he spoke of provisions for reinstating them if Syria fails to meet certain conditions during the transition.168 Legislators from the House and Senate are due to settle on language prior to a vote, which is expected in the coming weeks. These signs are promising: the Caesar sanctions have outlived their purpose and they will have to be rescinded entirely in order for Syria to attract the long-term investment and trade opportunities that it needs.
B.
Stabilising Suweida
With sectarian resentment running high and external interference persisting, stabilising Suweida will likely be a complex, long-term undertaking. Consequently, Damascus should pause efforts to force a comprehensive settlement and instead focus on de-escalation through service provision and economic integration. Deepening the province’s reliance on state services and infrastructure would be the most effective way to undermine separatist narratives and foreign meddling.
To this end, the government should keep working to ensure the availability of fuel and water, including with pledges to protect wells, many of which came under attack during the unrest.169 A promising start was the early November appointment of a locally respected Druze figure to run the water department’s branch office in Suweida, a post that no local has occupied before. This appointment has encouraged Druze civil society groups to cooperate with the state.170 Steps such as helping the apple trade, a major source of income in Suweida, would further cement the state’s role as the area’s economic engine. The national government has traditionally boosted this trade by purchasing and transporting the apple harvest to market. Simultaneously, the government should empower government-aligned Druze to help bring displaced families back to their homes. By proving that the central state is indispensable for livelihoods and stability, authorities can lower the temperature and gradually restore trust, creating the necessary conditions for eventual political dialogue.
VI.
Conclusion
Successful as the new Syrian authorities have been in forging bonds with outside actors, there is no ignoring the country’s internal challenges. The March violence in central and coastal regions marked a turn for the worse in the post-Assad transition. It laid bare the limits of the interim government’s authority and the flaws in its security approach. Sectarian resentment and economic desperation continue to fuel instability, particularly in areas where trust in the new order is tenuous. Moreover, July’s clashes in majority-Druze Suweida underlined that the March violence was not a one-off breakdown, but part of a pattern of growing alienation from the new government on the part of many Syrians. That trend could generate still more fighting and, if it escalates sufficiently, it could threaten the entire transition. North-eastern Syria, whose circumstances Crisis Group will explore in a forthcoming report, may become the next flashpoint.171
To achieve the kind of success at home that it has abroad, the government will need to turn in its second year to domestic affairs. One imperative is to open the political space, allowing broader participation in governance, to build a sense of shared ownership in the new order. Another is to enhance public safety: Damascus will need to improve security throughout the country, corral the factions not fully under its control and build better relations with local communities. Events in Suweida counsel an approach that emphasises economic integration. External actors should bolster these efforts by offering assistance that helps fill gaps, including in payment of salaries and local policing capacity. Conditioning such support on long-term political reforms risks delaying stabilisation and deepening Syria’s fragmentation, but the country’s partners should use their influence to press the government to improve the professionalism of security forces, including their adherence to international humanitarian and human rights law.
Syria has moved further in one year than anyone might have expected, but the road ahead will be long and difficult. Confronting the challenges outlined in this report is the only way ahead if the country is to repair what decades of authoritarian rule and thirteen years of brutal civil war have broken.
Damascus/Brussels, 26 November 2025
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