December occupies a peculiar place in Syria’s modern history. Again and again, it has served as a hinge between eras—marking escalation, collapse, or the fragile promise of renewal. On December 1, 2011, the United Nations formally classified the mounting clashes between Syrian civilians and government forces as a civil war.

Five years later, on December 22, 2016, the Syrian government declared victory in Aleppo, ending a four-and-a-half-year campaign to retake the country’s largest city from armed groups. And on December 8, 2024, Bashar al-Assad fled Damascus, closing the final chapter of his family’s five-decade grip on power—an era of authoritarian rule whose excesses had ignited the uprising in the first place.

After more than a decade of war and an additional half-decade of political paralysis, the paramilitary group Hayʾat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) launched an offensive that reshaped Syria’s political landscape. Its leader, Ahmed al-Sharaa, emerged as the country’s new head of state, promising a transitional period defined by reconstruction, institutional reform, and national reconciliation. Syrians were told that the long night of despotism had ended and that a new political dawn, however fragile, was possible.

More than a year after Assad’s ouster, many Syrians continue to mark what al-Sharaa described as the end of “an era of tyranny.” The International Organization for Migration reports that at least 782,000 Syrian refugees have returned from abroad, drawn home by the hope—if not yet the reality—of stability.

On the international stage, Syria has cautiously reemerged. Al-Sharaa addressed the United Nations General Assembly in September 2025, the first Syrian leader to do so in six decades, and became the first Syrian president to visit the White House two months later. Western capitals followed suit: embassies in Washington and London reopened, and the United States repealed sanctions that had been in place since 2019.

Yet these diplomatic gestures, while symbolically powerful, mask deeper vulnerabilities at home. Syria’s transitional government has made real strides toward recovery, but it has also exposed unresolved fault lines that threaten to unravel its progress. As the state prioritizes political, economic, and social reconstruction, national security remains dangerously uneven. That imbalance is most visible in the treatment of minority communities—particularly those who once stood closest to power and now find themselves abruptly marginalized.

One Step Forward, One Step Back

No group embodies this tension more starkly than the Alawites. Concentrated primarily along Syria’s coast, the Alawite minority has long been associated—fairly or not—with the Assad regime by the country’s predominantly Sunni population. Though they comprise roughly 12 percent of Syria’s population, Alawites occupied a disproportionate share of senior positions within the state under Assad, especially within the security services that enforced some of the regime’s most brutal policies.

Decades of repression under an Alawite-led ruling elite produced deep resentment well before the civil war began. That resentment, intensified by years of bloodshed, has not dissipated with the war’s formal end. Left unchecked, it now threatens to harden into something more corrosive. A government that claims to be building a unified postwar Syria cannot afford to allow collective grievance to curdle into collective punishment.

Yet that is precisely what many Alawites believe is happening. Beyond the legitimate purging of Assad loyalists from state institutions, sectarian violence surfaced early in al-Sharaa’s tenure, blurring the line between accountability and retribution. In March 2025, more than 1,500 civilians were reportedly killed in a series of crackdowns carried out by forces aligned with the new administration, with Alawites comprising the majority of the dead. “This is not about being pro- or anti-Assad,” said Rami Abdulrahman of the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights. “These are sectarian massacres aimed at expelling Alawites from their homes.”

The consequences have spilled beyond Syria’s borders. Over the course of 2025, an estimated 40,000 Alawites fled into Lebanon, further straining an already fragile humanitarian system. Inside Syria, those who remain increasingly view the government’s rhetoric about justice with skepticism. When al-Sharaa speaks of prosecuting criminals tied to the former regime, many Alawites see only the bodies of neighbors and the steady erosion of their own security. Once again, they feel cast as outsiders in their own country.

That sense of exclusion has fueled political mobilization. Protests organized by Alawite communities in late 2025 centered on demands for a more federal system of governance—one that would devolve greater authority to local administrations and reduce the power of a central state they no longer trust to protect them. State media, however, dismissed these demonstrations as the work of “outlaw groups” and “remnants of the defunct regime,” a narrative reinforced by clashes with security forces that turned deadly.

Discrimination has persisted in quieter but no less damaging forms, particularly in Latakia and Tartus. Reports of job dismissals, withheld salaries, and internal displacement have circulated widely, affecting Alawites regardless of their relationship to the former regime. “The same mistakes of the previous government are being repeated,” said Fidaa, a resident of Latakia, summing up a sentiment increasingly common along the coast.

Although al-Sharaa has publicly denied ordering the persecution of Alawites, the damage to trust is already substantial. Attacks on Alawite towns continue largely unchecked, creating openings for armed groups eager to exploit communal fear. This erosion of confidence is itself a national security threat. Former Alawite members of Assad’s security apparatus possess extensive experience fighting actors such as the Islamic State, the Syrian Democratic Forces, and Turkish-backed militias. Alienating them risks turning a potential source of intelligence into a reservoir of resentment.

The repercussions extend beyond one community. Syria’s Druze population has watched the treatment of Alawites closely and responded with growing distrust, despite government efforts to mediate Druze-Bedouin clashes in the south that have already displaced nearly 187,000 people. October 2025 parliamentary elections produced minimal minority representation, while Kurdish civilians endured repeated rights violations during clashes between government forces and the SDF in early 2026, even amid a ceasefire. For Syria’s minorities, the promise of inclusive national unity has begun to ring hollow.

For much of the country, Assad’s departure brought relief. For Alawites, it brought dread. After decades of benefiting—willingly or not—from a corrupt system, fear of retaliation was inevitable. So far, that fear has been largely confirmed. While anger toward a minority associated with authoritarian rule may be emotionally understandable, it is politically disastrous for a government that insists it represents a clean break from the past.

Sectarian violence against civilians does not heal a society emerging from war; it entrenches the very divisions that caused the conflict. Syria cannot ignore the crimes of its former rulers, but neither can it afford to replicate their logic. Al-Sharaa has argued that the country’s transitional phase will require three to five years before genuine stability takes hold. If his government is serious about safeguarding the rights of all Syrians, it must act decisively—and soon. Otherwise, Syria risks sliding back into civil war long before the promise of peace has any chance to harden into reality.