Even the most audacious of analysts would have refrained from betting on such a turn of events. Syrian President Bashar al Assad had long seemed triumphant, his seat secure. After years of a brutal civil war that had once seen him close to defeat, Russia’s military intervention, in 2015, turned the tide and enabled Assad to retake, in a series of grueling campaigns, the majority of his devastated nation. Yet when his power appeared impregnable, it simply melted away. When the Al Qaeda-led militants—who had until then controlled only a tiny piece of northern Syria—decided to go on the offensive, in late November, Assad’s Army imploded. There was barely any resistance as thousands of Islamist rebels marched on Aleppo, Syria’s second largest city. A week later, they were in Damascus, and President Assad, his military crushed, was boarding a plane to Moscow. It was a surreal sight.
If there are indeed weeks where decades happen, then the Middle East just witnessed one of them. At the time of his ouster, the Syrian President was busy trying to reduce his dependence on Iran: he was normalising ties not only with the Gulf Monarchies but even with some European states—Giorgia Meloni’s Italy chief among them. Iranian wrath at these developments may have played a significant role in Assad’s political demise.
The wheel of history has now moved—and not necessarily for the better. While few would claim that Ba’athist Syria was a haven of liberty, the saner among us will agree that the country’s prospects under Islamist rule are hardly merrier. The future seems particularly agonising for Syria’s Christians. While professed by well over 10% of the population just a decade ago, Christianity in the country faces extermination under the yoke of totalitarian Salafism. When Syria’s northern capital fell, the Catholic Bishop of Homs, Jacques Mourad, depressingly announced “the end of the great history of Christians in Aleppo.” His warning is likely now just as pertinent for the rest of Syria, a country inhabited by Christian communities still speaking and praying in Aramaic, the language of Jesus Christ.
Even as the media toils to whitewash the reputation of Syria’s ‘diversity-friendly jihadists,, the truth is that the nation, a bastion of civilisation and sophistication for millenia, will henceforth be ruled by a coalition of some of the world’s vilest fanatics. The new strongman, Abu Mohammad al-Julani, is more than a tad unsavory: nominated as leader of the Syrian branch of Al Qaeda by no less than Abu Bakr al Baghdadi, the defunct ‘caliph’ of ISIS, he once reported directly to 9/11 mastermind Ayman al-Zawahiri. To now presume that this is the man who will transform Syria into a multiparty, liberal democracy marks a disgraceful new height in the spectacular gullibility of the Western commentariat.
Instead, what seems likely is that the unity and viability of the Syrian state has finally been ravaged for good. The myriad Jihadist militias that now stand triumphant hate each other almost as much as they once loathed Assad and, in the new vacuum, will carve up Syria amongst themselves. Europe will have to contend with a dystopian constellation of tiny Islamist bantustans in a state of permanent bellicosity. As a vortex of violence and chaos, it seems inevitable that Syria, like Afghanistan twenty years ago, will now become a global haven of terror—all this a mere 100 kilometres away from Cyprus, an EU member state. Indeed, it has only been days since Assad’s ouster and the ISIS flag is already flying in Latakia, Jihadist propaganda is broadcast on state TV, terrorist gangs kill people with impunity, Christian girls are forbidden from leaving their homes without male company, and the country’s new prime minister is busy formalising a Taliban-like Shahada flag as the nation’s new symbol. It won’t get any better from here.
What has also been irrevocably transformed is the Middle Eastern balance of power. Following the horrifying attacks of October 7th 2023 by Palestinian terror organisation Hamas, tensions between Israel and Iran escalated to a bitter, if indirect, clash for regional supremacy. With Hamas crushed, Hezbollah in tatters, and Bashar al Assad deposed, Israel stands victorious—and Iran comprehensively defanged. As recently as two years ago, Tehran seemed to be well on its way towards achieving hegemon status between the Mediterranean and the Indus. Those dreams are now a smoldering ruin. Iran will find it difficult to project power further than Iraq or Yemen. For the Mullahs, it is a strategic disaster that leaves the regime weakened—not just externally, but internally as well.
The collapse of Iran’s ambitions might be good news for Israel’s Prime Minister, Bibi Netanyahu. But it is Turkey’s Recep Tayyip Erdogan that stands to gain the most in the new Middle East. It isn’t merely that the implosion of the Syrian regime marks the Turkish President’s complete triumph over his old nemesis, Assad. More profoundly—and here begin Israel’s problems—it brings Turkey to its strongest point since the 18th century. With Assad no longer serving as an obstacle to his neo-Ottoman project, the Turkish leader might soon have his minions on the Israeli border. His power will extend from the Golan to the Black Sea, and from Libya—where Ankara’s proxies rule over Tripoli—to Baku and the Caspian. Encouraged by his previous successes in Armenia, he will press for more—Turkey desires a land border with its Azerbaijani ally, and there isn’t much to stop it. With Syria, Northern Cyprus, and Libya as obedient beylerbeyliks, Erdogan now enjoys immense power over the Eastern Mediterranean. This ascendant, assertive Turkey is dreaming ever higher, as plans for the 50,000-ton MUGEM aircraft carrier amply make evident.
Ankara’s thirst for geopolitical grandeur is enabled by solid material foundations: a large economy that the World Bank evaluates as only marginally smaller than Britain’s or Italy’s; a sophisticated industry whose military drones have impressed the world in Ukraine, Armenia, and elsewhere; NATO’s second largest armed forces; and a large, youthful population numbering almost 90 million. At the helm of a Sunni power, Erdogan finds it much easier than Shia Iran to project power—soft and hard—among the estimated 85 to 90% of global Muslims who are also Sunni. Turkey is no longer ‘the sick man of Europe,’ as it was once derisively known. With Tehran all but expelled from the Levant, it is Turkey and Israel that remain as the preeminent centres of power. The rivalry between them will likely now be the dominant factor of regional life.
How will these developments affect the broader region—and what implications will they have for the world? The new Israeli-Turkish rivalry will determine both nations’ broader geopolitical strategies, as well as those of regional and extra-regional players. As it had done against Iran, Israel will court the Arabs and try to woo them away from Erdogan’s embrace. Although they all subscribe to rigoristic forms of Sunni Islam, the Gulf Arabs fear the reestablishment of Turkish dominance and deplore Turkey’s sponsorship of the anti-monarchical, revolution-loving Muslim Brotherhood. Such fears, if intelligently exploited by Israeli strategists, might make Turkey’s assertion of influence considerably more difficult—and continue to encourage an Arab-Israeli rapprochement in the spirit of the 2020 Abraham Accords.
The return of President Trump to the White House—together with an expected improvement of U.S.-Israeli relations, much damaged during the Biden era—will likely see America take a strong stance against Turkey’s rising regional influence. As Tel Aviv and Ankara trade blows in their quest for supremacy, so will ties between Turkey and the U.S. weaken. This will prove a substantial challenge to Turkey’s NATO ties. Hopes that U.S. arms and technology transfers—namely, for instance, sales of F-35 stealth jets long desired by the Turks—can placate Ankara seem shallow and ignore how the upcoming Turkish-American rift is systemically-driven, and thus unavoidable.
In the meantime, U.S.-Israeli—and, as we have seen, possibly Arab—alignment against Turkish interests will lead Erdogan to take an even more anti-Western direction than he has done thus far. Few should be surprised if, although they were recently adversaries in Syria, Turks, Russians, and Iranians now see their interests better served by a grand partnership. Indeed, Moscow has a strong desire to keep its military bases in Syria—the naval facility in Tartus and the air base in Hmeimim, both close to the coast. It can only do so with Erdogan’s good will—either through pressure on the new regime in Damascus or, more dangerously, by fomenting Alawite separatism and reestablishing the old ‘Alawite state’ as a Russian protectorate in the Mediterranean. Iran’s Ayatollahs are eager to preserve a direct land route to their allies in Lebanon, Hezbollah—they, too, now need the Turks more than ever. Turkey, meanwhile, will inevitably turn to Russian weapon deliveries as U.S. reluctance to arm it grows. Beyond their shared grievances, these three powers will not find it difficult to discover fields of cooperation, particularly now that their main point of friction—the fate of Syria—has been closed. Just as Russia continues to benefit from Iranian drone technologies for its war in Ukraine, so too are the Iranians eager to modernise their air forces with cutting-edge Russian Su-35s, the first of which have now started to arrive in the Islamic Republic. Where there are common interests, there will be common strategies.
None should underestimate the potential of this budding partnership. Western strategists and Israel face a daunting task. But it should not be forgotten that the new, dangerous, and developing coalition is defined by its common opposition to the West rather than by any shared vision. A combination of strength and smart diplomacy—limiting the incentives for these powers to cooperate amongst themselves, while all the time highlighting their differences—offers the West ample opportunities to diminish and overcome the threat. One hopes our leaders can navigate the tricky waters ahead.
