Angry Sunnis
President Sharaa’s base is beginning to ask awkward questions

Even before the guns fell silent, the questions had begun. Why did interim President Ahmad al-Sharaa authorise the Suwayda operation without securing a firm green light from the United States and Israel? Why were raw General Security recruits sent into a confrontation with Druze militias that were never likely to capitulate? Why was the subsequent army offensive so poorly planned and executed? And after the initial push failed – derailed, crucially, by Israeli airstrikes on Damascus – why were Bedouin families not extricated from their villages when the army that was there to protect them withdrew? Above all, what of the estimated 700 pro-government fighters who lost their lives? Did they die for nothing?

These are some of the uncomfortable questions now being asked within Sharaa’s core constituency: Sunni Arabs from rural and tribal regions, fanatically loyal to the idea of a strong central state and Sharaa’s leadership of it. As Syria in Transition exclusively reported on 17 July, the decision to escalate militarily in Suwayda stemmed from a “misunderstanding” during discreet talks between Syrian and Israeli delegations in Baku, Azerbaijan. That revelation has added to concerns about the readiness of Syrian diplomacy to navigate the complexities of regional geopolitics and interpret the nuances of backchannel negotiations.

Minority danger
What transpired in the “Battle of Suwayda” was a defeat for the government. But what is unsettling Sunni communities across Syria runs deeper than a single military setback. Many fear that their long-anticipated “project” of a Sunni-dominated Syria is at risk before it has had a chance to take root. The spectre of an “alliance of minorities” — heavily armed and backed by meddling external actors — is seen as a growing existential threat.

The Druze, for instance, have coalesced around one leader: Sheikh Hikmat al-Hajari. His refusal to disarm and the support he receives from Israel meant that the Druze are now a step closer to some form of autonomy. This is particularly troubling as the Druze had long been among the minority communities most closely aligned with Sunni opposition to the Assad regime.

The SDF, for its part, is not displeased with the outcome. It is likely to maintain a hardened stance in negotiations over the integration of its fighters into the Syrian army – a goal sought by the United States and Turkey. That now seems more uncertain, not least due to widespread reports of atrocities committed by pro-government forces during the Suwayda operation. Druze militias also stand accused of heinous crimes, particularly against Bedouin civilians, but they are unlikely to be held to the same standard as those who have committed themselves to “act like a state.” 

Speaking out
While the ouster of Assad was widely seen as a victory for Syria’s Sunnis, real power has been concentrated in the hands of a relatively narrow segment of that population – namely, members of Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) and their affiliates. With no real political parties to speak of, and with the Sunni street – like the rest of Syrian society – politically unorganised, the HTS-dominated government has faced little resistance in persuading its base that it alone is qualified and entitled to govern the country.

Sharaa himself remains personally popular. But the debacle in Suwayda has laid bare the limits of his state-building project and raised doubts about the nature and durability of the order he is attempting to construct. His strategy of integrating minorities by coercion is attracting international scrutiny. Less discussed outside the country, however, is the potential wavering of support from Sharaa’s key base.

Keeping that base on side is crucial, and it begins with not taking the Sunni majority for granted. In March, tens of thousands of mainly rural working- and middle-class Sunni fighters rallied to crush the coastal insurrection. When asked to confront the Israeli-backed Druze militias in Suwayda, they responded again – many convinced they were fulfilling a patriotic duty. Despite the military setback, they remain willing to answer the call, though likely with greater caution. Some of them now say that their continued silence in the face of HTS mismanagement is harming the state-building project in Syria, and that, while remaining loyal to the state, they should be allowed to criticise the government.

During the Suwayda campaign, several Sunni TV commentators spoke out against what they saw as a strategic blunder, but were quickly shouted down or vilified. That instinct to silence dissent is both misguided and dangerous. What some HTS supporters dismissively call “cute Sunnis” are mainly the educated urban middle classes who backed Sharaa – often, crucially, in international circles – in the hope that they would be given a voice in the new administration. If they continue to feel browbeaten or excluded, they will start to drift.

Politics starts at home
Despite its dominance within the current power structure, HTS cannot credibly claim to represent something as broad and diverse as “the Sunnis.” Syria’s Sunni Arab population spans urban professionals, rural farmers, a struggling underclass, religious conservatives, and secular nationalists. No single faction, least of all one with HTS’s ideological background, can speak for all of them. If anything, HTS’s dominance has stifled the kind of pluralism and debate essential for a healthy political culture that provides a corrective mechanism in times of crisis.

The events in Suwayda have underscored the need for Syria’s political life to restart in earnest. This means finalising a robust electoral framework, establishing a credible, representative parliament, and enacting a modern political party law. It also requires clear legislation strengthening freedom of speech and expression, and outlawing sectarian hate and incitement to violence. If future missteps are to be avoided, the right to criticise without fear – especially from within the tent – is not just important, but essential.