Capturing the middle ground

Modern Syrian history has never provided the conditions for the emergence of a political environment characterised by clear political alignments. From the First Republic – embodied in the National Bloc era (1930–1958, and again 1961–1963) – through the period of union with Egypt, and into the Second Republic under Baathist rule and the Assad era (1958–1961; 1963–2024), Syrian political life unfolded amid a succession of crises. These recurrent disruptions consistently undermined institutional development and left little room for the consolidation of a democratic culture.

In post-war Europe, by contrast, a clearly defined political spectrum does exist. On one side stands a left-liberal tendency led by social democratic parties, and on the other a right-wing conservative current, led by Christian Democratic and other conservative parties. The intellectual and practical contest between these two poles centred on economic policy, public services, and the distribution of resources. Yet this confrontation unfolded within a relatively narrow political space, constrained by material realities. 

It was within this context that centrist approaches emerged, seeking to reconcile the two sides. Most notably stands the “Third Way” associated with Bill Clinton and Tony Blair, which attempted to combine market dynamism with mechanisms of social protection. Such innovations illustrate what becomes possible when political competition is bounded by institutions.   

In Syria, however, the weight of geopolitics and the intensity of social upheavals accompanying state formation thwarted the natural development of political life. Parties competing on clearly-defined political and economic platforms were never really given a chance. From independence onwards, dominant political forces called for Syria’s incorporation into larger entities deemed more significant: the Arab Nation, the Islamic Umma, the Soviet bloc, or Greater Syria. These visions were advanced by violent and totalitarian parties with transnational dreams, which were rarely aligned with the practical requirements of a young state seeking to build institutions and serve its citizens. Instead, they reflected a hyper-emotional attachment to history, and the agendas of military elites seeking to legitimise their seizure of power.

Thus it became that much of Syria’s politics was taken up either by the radical left (Communists, Baathists, Nasserists) or the hard right (Muslim Brotherhood, Syrian Social Nationalist Party). Between these two poles lay what might be termed the “middle ground”: the preferences of the majority of society, particularly the middle class, typically moderate, practical, and compromise-oriented.

Syria did experience a political experiment that could be described as “centrist.” It took the form of liberal-bourgeois parties governing in the late-1940s and 50s in what became known as the “National period”, in reference to the National Bloc, formed in 1928 of leading Constituent Assembly members that agitated for Syria’s independence from the French mandate. Post-independence, two parties emerged from it: the National Party (Damascus-based, founded in 1947), and the People’s Party (Aleppo-based, founded in 1948). These two parties, representing an extension of the reformist bourgeoisie that had developed in the Ottoman Empire’s final decades, dominated parliamentary life. 

Despite their pragmatism, their place within a European liberal and centre-right tradition, their pro-West tendencies, and their “patriotic” non-sectarian attitudes, and the relative integrity of many of their leading figures, even by the standards of the time, these parties remained, at their core, groupings of notables. They primarily represented the interests of capitalists and professional elites, and failed to elaborate genuinely national projects capable of creating a shared identity and delivering meaningful economic relief for the poor. 

Their strategic weakness was their catastrophically late creation. The National Bloc itself resisted becoming a formal party, as evidenced by its by-laws of 1932, instead remaining as an “intellectual gathering.” This delay prevented liberal and centre-right forces from capitalising on their head start in the field of political organisation and mobilisation: an essential condition for consolidating an open and sustainable parliamentary system. As a result, the door was left ajar for better organised radical and totalitarian parties to advance, ultimately extinguishing party life altogether in 1963. 

A century after the formation of the Syrian state, the Baath and Communist parties have expired. Today’s survivors, however, are no less radical: the Kurdish post-Marxist Democratic Union Party (PYD) and the Islamist organisation Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS). Between these acronyms lies Syria’s middle ground.

In the Syrian context, the “middle ground” denotes a broad socio-political inclination that forms the lowest common denominator among wide segments of Syrians, shaped mainly by local politics and practical preferences. 

Structurally, this current cannot be reduced to a purely sectarian category. Its social base consists largely of those segments of the population that derived no direct benefit from the war economy or from ideological projects. They seek safety and stability, the restoration of a minimum level of normality in their daily lives, a manageable cost of living and a state governed by law. They are the salaried classes, the small business owners in rural areas and the suburbs, the jobless graduates, the retired teacher, the army veteran: what some describe as “the remnants of the middle class.” 

These left behinds are a large segment of what constitutes today’s middle ground. They include Alawites who lost everything defending the Assad state while warlords looted the public purse and fled. And Sunni refugees whose grievances were instrumentalised by opportunists to construct a new oligarchy marrying money to Salafi-jihadist power, only to return to a country without reconstruction or prospects. These groups – and others like them across the Arab–Kurdish divide and other regional fault lines – could yet be brought together by a current that can be described as “centrist.”

As politics tentatively returns to Syria, the middle ground once again finds itself without a political home. Part of the problem is terminology. Because Syria’s political development was skewed by totalitarian parties and coups, labels like “conservative” or “liberal” or “reformist” never enjoyed the same prestige as “Islamist” or “Leftist”. 

“Centrism” may offer an answer. Its spiritual appeal is in the Quran’s use of the word “wasata” (middle) to mean “fair” (“And thus We have made you a middle community that you will be witnesses over the people”, 2:143). Its practical appeal is its clear connection to Syrian society as it actually is. Centrism starts from a simple premise: that most Syrians constitute a broadly moderate bloc, are weary of grand projects and abstract visions, and primarily concerned with their own wellbeing and that of their immediate community. What they’re looking for is tangible solutions to the accumulated problems of daily life. That means a much greater emphasis by the government on economics, good governance, and the rule of law. 

Centrism might also offer solutions to some of the “bigger” problems Syria is facing. Centrists feel patriotic about their Arab or Islamic heritage, but won’t allow it to become an obstacle to relations with other components of society, or indeed the world. They would believe in a strong state, but not one that reproduces Assad-era repression; and in empowered and accountable local government under whatever label. They would reject the reduction of politics to closed identities – class, sectarian, or ethnic – while not being naïve about them. They would also believe in democracy and human rights while being clear-eyed about Syria’s most pressing challenges. Centrism in the Syrian context implies restraint, a reordering of priorities, and an outcomes-over-slogans approach. 

President Ahmad al-Sharaa will continue to seek to consolidate his position as Syria’s Sunni zaim, and will likely run in a presidential contest in four years. Assuming a free and fair poll, electoral arithmetic would likely push him to the centre ground, where voters are likely to place their trust in whoever can offer a rational political discourse and a functioning state. The danger is that it remains merely a social mood or an elite attitude devoid of organisation and influence.