To those worried about Syria’s future now that Bashar al-Assad has fled after fifty-four years of authoritarian rule, it is important to take a closer look at the roots of these concerns. What exactly is the fear? Is it the potential for chaos in a country already torn apart by war, where sectarian militias and foreign powers have caused unimaginable destruction? Or is it the prospect of instability in a nation where half the population has been displaced, and those who remain have endured imprisonment, loss, and the struggle to survive? The truth is, chaos is not a distant threat for Syria –  it has been its grim reality for over a decade.

Much of that fear, however, did not emerge with Assad’s departure, as the regime thrived on insecurity, transforming difference into suspicion and dependence. Against this history, the lament over “losing Syria” demands reconsideration. Consequently, the idea of sectarian violence deserves deeper examination, as sectarianism in Syria was never spontaneous. The regime weaponised it, sparing no one from its brutality, regardless of religion or sect. It relied on militias from Iran, Lebanon, Iraq, and Afghanistan to suppress its own people, and we have seen that from Houla to Ghouta, from Idlib to Daraa, its crimes left scars on every community. Druze detainees, Christian martyrs, Muslim prisoners, and Alawite dissidents all became victims of a strategy designed to divide and conquer, leaving no one untouched. Against this background, when people speak of “losing Syria,” the question becomes more complex. Which Syria is being lost? The one where families were stripped of bread, water, and electricity, or the one where millions were driven from their homes and reduced to nameless figures in overcrowded refugee camps? That Syria was already broken, fragmented, and exploited while the world stood by. Understanding this enduring fear requires viewing it as a form of collective memory rather than an isolated emotion. It is the residue of decades of violence and dispossession that continue to shape social life. Recovery from such experience is rarely a singular or spectacular event, it is sustained through the quiet, ordinary labours by which individuals and communities rebuild the texture of daily existence.

© Middle East Monitor