What Emmanuel Macron Really Wants from Syria

Macron's visit to Damascus reveals what the war against Syria was always intended to achieve.

After watching Emmanuel Macron arrive in Damascus and stand beside Abu Mohammad al-Julani, I kept returning to one question because I believe it explains far more than the visit itself. If the war against Syria was truly fought for democracy, human rights, and political reform, why does the new Syria being welcomed by Western leaders look less democratic than the one they spent fifteen years trying to destroy?

For more than a decade, Western governments justified their policies toward Syria by arguing that Bashar al-Assad had lost his legitimacy and that a political transition was necessary to allow Syrians to determine their own future. Whether one supported or opposed Assad, the official narrative remained remarkably consistent. The war, we were repeatedly told, was about freedom, democracy, and the Syrian people’s right to choose their leaders.

Today, however, those principles appear strangely absent.

Emmanuel Macron did not travel to Damascus to congratulate Syria on holding democratic elections. There have been none. He did not praise an independent judiciary, a pluralistic political system, or constitutional reforms that expanded political participation. None of these developments have taken place. Abu Mohammad al-Julani did not become president through elections but through military conquest followed by Western recognition. Yet none of this appears to trouble the same governments that spent years insisting democracy was the indispensable condition for normalizing relations with Damascus.

I believe this contradiction deserves far more attention than Macron’s visit itself. Because once democracy disappears from the discussion, another explanation begins to emerge.

During the joint press conference, Abu Mohammad al-Julani did not primarily present Syria as a country rebuilding its political institutions. He presented it as an investment opportunity. The language of sovereignty, resistance, and national independence that had defined Syrian political discourse for decades was replaced by the language of trade corridors, reconstruction projects, foreign investment, logistics, and economic openness. Syria was no longer introduced as a state pursuing an independent economic model but as a market waiting to be integrated into the global economy.

This change reveals a profound transformation in how Syria is expected to function.

For years, discussions about the Syrian conflict revolved around sectarianism, authoritarianism, terrorism, foreign intervention, and humanitarian catastrophe. Much less attention was paid to a question that may ultimately prove far more important: what kind of economic system would emerge once the existing Syrian state disappeared?

I have often argued that the war against Syria cannot be understood solely through the language of democracy or dictatorship. It must also be understood through the lens of political economy. States are rarely destroyed simply because Western governments dislike their political systems. More often, they become targets when their political sovereignty protects an economic model that external powers seek to transform.

Syria represented precisely such a case.

One episode from 2006 illustrates this remarkably well. Qatar proposed constructing a natural gas pipeline that would transport Gulf gas through Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Syria before reaching Turkey and eventually the European market. Such a project would have significantly strengthened Qatar while reducing Europe’s dependence on Russian energy exports. Damascus rejected the proposal. Whether one believes this decision alone triggered the events that followed is beside the point. What matters is that Syria’s leadership demonstrated something increasingly rare in today’s international system: it retained the ability to reject projects backed by powerful regional and international actors because it still exercised sovereign control over its own territory and strategic decisions.

That distinction is often overlooked, but political sovereignty and economic sovereignty are closely connected.

A government that controls its borders, energy infrastructure, ports, and strategic industries can refuse external demands even when doing so entails significant political costs. A government that depends upon foreign financial institutions, external security guarantees, and international investment possesses far less room for independent decision-making. In many respects, economic dependence gradually transforms into political dependence.

Once viewed from this perspective, Macron’s visit begins to look rather different.

It becomes less about celebrating political transformation than about consolidating economic transformation.

This also helps explain why so much of the discussion surrounding Syria today revolves around reconstruction rather than sovereignty. Reconstruction sounds humanitarian. It evokes images of rebuilding hospitals, schools, roads, and homes destroyed by war. But reconstruction also means contracts. It means privatization. It means infrastructure concessions. It means telecommunications networks, ports, energy grids, transport corridors, banking systems, insurance markets, and investment agreements worth billions of dollars. Every destroyed state eventually becomes a reconstruction market, and reconstruction markets create enormous opportunities for foreign corporations.

One should therefore ask a simple question.

Who is expected to finance Syria’s reconstruction?

And once that question is asked, another naturally follows.

Who will own the Syria that emerges from it?

These are not abstract questions.

They go to the heart of what sovereignty actually means in the twenty-first century.

For many Western policymakers, sovereignty is discussed almost exclusively in military or diplomatic terms. Yet for ordinary citizens, sovereignty is experienced economically. It determines whether governments retain the ability to subsidize essential goods, regulate strategic industries, protect domestic production, and prevent national assets from being transferred to foreign ownership. A state may possess a flag, an anthem, and international recognition while gradually surrendering control over the economic foundations that make genuine independence possible.

This distinction became particularly evident during Abu Mohammad al-Julani’s presentation.

His vision of Syria was not centered on rebuilding an independent state capable of directing its own development. Instead, Syria was presented as a platform for international commerce, regional connectivity, and foreign capital. Western governments immediately welcomed this language because it aligned perfectly with their own economic priorities. Investors are generally more interested in open markets than in sovereign economic planning. Multinational corporations rarely seek states capable of resisting external pressure. They prefer governments that facilitate access to markets, resources, infrastructure, and investment opportunities.

Hence, the vocabulary of democracy has quietly given way to the vocabulary of liberalization.

And that transition deserves careful examination. Because if the objective of the past fifteen years had truly been democracy, one would expect Western leaders to spend their time discussing elections, constitutional reform, judicial independence, political parties, and civil society. Instead, the conversation increasingly revolves around investment climates, reconstruction funds, transport corridors, and commercial partnerships.

That reflects the emergence of a different political project altogether.

One that places economic integration above political sovereignty.

To understand why this transformation matters, we have to revisit a question that has largely disappeared from discussions about Syria over the past decade: what exactly was the economic model that existed before the war, and why was it considered incompatible with the regional order that eventually emerged?

This is an uncomfortable subject because it requires separating political disagreements from economic realities. One can criticize the Assad government’s political system while simultaneously acknowledging that it pursued an economic model fundamentally different from the neoliberal model now being promoted under Abu Mohammad al-Julani. These are two separate discussions, yet they are almost always merged into one.

Before the war, Syria maintained a state-centered economy in which strategic sectors remained under significant government control. Fuel, electricity, bread, education, healthcare, and many basic commodities were heavily subsidized. The state intervened directly in the economy not because it rejected markets altogether, but because it considered certain sectors too important to be left entirely to market forces. Whether that model was efficient in every respect is another debate. What matters is that it reflected a political philosophy in which the state retained primary responsibility for protecting basic living standards.

Today’s Syria is moving in the opposite direction.

Abu Mohammad al-Julani’s vision is built around liberalization, foreign investment, privatization, and integrating Syria into regional and global markets. These policies are often presented as modernization, and perhaps some degree of economic opening is indeed unavoidable after fourteen years of devastating war. But liberalization is never politically neutral. Every economic model creates winners and losers, redistributes wealth, and alters the relationship between the state and society. The question is therefore not whether Syria should rebuild. The question is who will own that reconstruction and who will ultimately benefit from it.

This is where I find many discussions about Syria remarkably superficial.

Western leaders repeatedly describe the new Syria as “free,” but freedom itself is rarely defined. Free for whom? Free in what sense? Does freedom simply mean opening markets to multinational corporations? Does it mean reducing the state’s role in strategic industries? Does it mean transferring reconstruction projects worth billions of dollars to foreign companies? Or does freedom also include the ability of a sovereign government to determine its own economic priorities without external pressure?

These are very different concepts of freedom.

One emphasizes markets.

The other emphasizes sovereignty.

They should not be confused.

I often think back to the years before the war because they illustrate this distinction better than abstract economic theories ever could. Between roughly 2005 and 2010, I lived in Syria as an ordinary citizen. Like millions of Syrians, I experienced an economy that certainly had its problems but also provided forms of social protection that are almost impossible to imagine today. Fuel was affordable. Electricity was heavily subsidized. Public universities remained free. Healthcare costs were cheap for ordinary families. Food prices, despite periodic inflation, remained within reach of much of the population because the state continued to intervene in essential sectors.

I am not suggesting that pre-war Syria represented an economic paradise.

It did not.

Corruption existed. Bureaucracy existed. Inefficiency existed. Many reforms were badly needed. But there is an important difference between reforming a sovereign economic model and dismantling it altogether. The tragedy of Syria is that the debate never remained confined to reform. Instead, the state itself became the object of destruction.

That distinction matters because wars rarely end when governments fall.

They end when a new political economy replaces the previous one.

This is precisely why Macron’s visit should not be interpreted simply as a diplomatic gesture. France has never hidden its interest in returning as a major political and economic actor in the Levant. Long before the Syrian conflict, Paris viewed Lebanon and Syria as central components of its historical influence in the Eastern Mediterranean. The collapse of the Syrian state, followed by the gradual normalization of relations with the new authorities in Damascus, presents an opportunity that French policymakers have sought for years: re-establishing political influence through economic penetration.

This objective extends well beyond reconstruction contracts.

France also seeks to consolidate its military presence across the Eastern Mediterranean at a moment when the regional balance of power is changing rapidly. Russia’s position in Syria has weakened considerably since the fall of Damascus. Whether Russian forces ultimately retain long-term access to the naval facility in Tartus and the airbase at Hmeimim remains uncertain, but one reality is already clear: the strategic vacuum created by Russia’s reduced influence will not remain empty for long.

History teaches us that geopolitical vacuums rarely exist for very long.

They are filled.

The question is by whom.

France clearly intends to become one of the beneficiaries of that transition. So do Turkey, Israel, the United States, and several Gulf monarchies. Each sees post-war Syria not merely as a country recovering from conflict, but as a geopolitical space whose future orientation remains open to competition. This explains why so many foreign leaders have suddenly rediscovered an interest in Syria after years of isolation. Their interest is not driven solely by humanitarian concern. It reflects calculations about influence, trade, energy, military positioning, and access to one of the most strategically important territories in West Asia.

This broader geopolitical context also explains Macron’s remarkable willingness to overlook questions that previously dominated Western discourse. Not long ago, European governments insisted that legitimacy depended upon democratic institutions, constitutional reform, and political inclusion. Today, those conditions appear surprisingly flexible. Abu Mohammad al-Julani has not been elected. Syria has not adopted a democratic constitution. Competitive elections have not taken place. Independent political parties remain largely absent. Yet none of these issues prevented Macron from treating the new authorities as legitimate partners.

This is difficult to reconcile with the rhetoric that dominated European policy throughout the Syrian conflict.

Unless democracy was never the decisive issue.

If the principal objective had genuinely been democratic transformation, one would expect France to measure the new government according to the same standards it once demanded from Bashar al-Assad. Instead, the criteria themselves appear to have changed. Political legitimacy is no longer evaluated according to democratic procedures but according to the willingness of the new authorities to integrate Syria into a different regional and economic order.

And perhaps that is the most revealing transformation of all.

The discussion has quietly shifted from changing Syria’s political system to changing Syria’s geopolitical and economic orientation. Once that objective is achieved, many of the democratic standards that justified years of sanctions, diplomatic isolation, and military support for opposition forces suddenly become negotiable.

That reflects a hierarchy of priorities in which geopolitical alignment ultimately outweighs democratic principles.

And it is against that backdrop that the explosions accompanying Macron’s visit begin to acquire a very different meaning. Regardless of who ultimately carried them out, they served as a reminder that Syria has entered neither stability nor sovereignty. The country remains an arena where multiple regional and international actors continue competing over its political future. That is precisely why I believe the attacks deserve closer examination, not simply as security incidents, but as political events whose timing and execution may reveal more than their immediate tactical objective.

Almost immediately after the explosions, competing explanations began circulating, each reflecting a different interpretation of Syria’s new geopolitical reality. Some attributed the attacks to remnants of ISIS or other extremist organizations seeking to destabilize the new regime. Others argued that the operation bore the hallmarks of a foreign intelligence service attempting to send a political message rather than achieve a purely military objective. At this stage, it would be irresponsible to attribute responsibility without conclusive evidence. But the timing of the attacks, occurring while the French president was presenting Syria as a country entering a new era of stability and international normalization, raises legitimate questions that cannot simply be ignored.

One aspect of the footage particularly attracted my attention.

The explosions appeared to follow what military analysts commonly describe as a “double tap” pattern. The first blast strikes the initial target. Moments later, a second explosion occurs after security personnel, journalists, first responders, and civilians begin converging on the scene. This tactic has been documented in numerous conflicts over the past two decades because it maximizes psychological impact while increasing casualties among those responding to the initial attack. Whether this was indeed a deliberate double-tap operation in Damascus remains for investigators to determine, but the visual sequence immediately stood out because it resembled a method more commonly associated with sophisticated military or intelligence operations than with random acts of terrorism.

That observation inevitably leads to another question.

Who benefits politically from reminding both Macron and Jolani that Syria remains fundamentally unstable?

Several possibilities have been discussed since the attacks. One theory suggests that rogue jihadist networks continue operating beyond the control of the new regime. Another attributes the operation to regional actors seeking to undermine Jolani’s consolidation of power. Others have speculated about foreign intelligence services attempting to influence the political environment surrounding Syria’s reintegration into the international system. At this stage, none of these explanations can be established with certainty. What can be established, however, is that the explosions carried an unmistakable political message.

In this regard, I found Elijah Magnier’s interpretation particularly interesting. He argued that the explosions were less important for their immediate military effect than for their political symbolism. Whether or not one accepts his specific conclusions, the broader point deserves consideration. The attacks occurred precisely when France sought to present Syria as entering a new phase of stability, reconstruction, and international normalization. Instead, the images transmitted around the world reinforced the opposite perception: that despite diplomatic ceremonies and optimistic press conferences, the country remains an arena where competing regional and international actors continue settling geopolitical scores.

This is why I believe Macron’s visit ultimately revealed something much larger than France’s renewed interest in Syria.

It exposed the fundamental contradiction at the heart of the Western narrative.

For more than a decade, European governments insisted that the Syrian conflict was about democracy, human rights, and the rule of law. Yet the moment a new leadership emerged that aligned more closely with Western geopolitical and economic priorities, those principles suddenly became remarkably flexible. Nobody now asks how Abu Mohammad al-Julani became president. Nobody insists upon competitive elections before diplomatic recognition. Nobody conditions reconstruction on constitutional reforms or political pluralism. The standards that were once presented as universal have quietly become negotiable.

However, this is not unique to Syria.

Western governments frequently describe democracy as a universal value, yet their practical application of that principle depends overwhelmingly on geopolitical alignment. Governments that cooperate strategically are often judged according to one set of standards. Governments that resist Western priorities are judged according to another standard. Democracy therefore functions less as a consistent principle than as a political instrument whose importance rises and falls according to strategic necessity.

Syria illustrates this contradiction with exceptional clarity.

Had Bashar al-Assad remained in power while announcing identical economic reforms, opening Syrian infrastructure to Western corporations, welcoming European investment, and repositioning Syria within the Western regional order, it is difficult to imagine that sanctions, diplomatic isolation, and regime-change policies would have continued with the same intensity. Conversely, had Abu Mohammad al-Julani adopted the economic philosophy of the previous Syrian state while insisting upon strategic independence from Western influence, it is equally difficult to imagine that he would now be welcomed in European capitals as a legitimate partner.

The question is not whether Bashar al-Assad or Abu Mohammad al-Julani governs Syria better.

The question is which political model better serves the interests of external powers.

And once that question is asked, Jolani’s role begins to look considerably different.

He increasingly resembles less the sovereign leader of an independent state than the executive director of a geopolitical transition whose primary objective is to integrate Syria into a different regional order. His responsibility is not merely to govern the country. It is to facilitate the political, economic, and strategic transformation that years of war failed to achieve militarily. Reconstruction, privatization, investment, normalization, and regional realignment become different components of the same broader project.

This is why I find Macron’s visit so revealing.

It was presented as the symbolic end of Syria’s isolation.

I believe it symbolized something else entirely.

It symbolized the beginning of the competition over post-war Syria.

French corporations seek reconstruction contracts. Turkish companies seek economic expansion. Gulf investment funds seek new markets. Israel seeks a permanently weakened northern neighbor. The United States seeks to consolidate a regional order more closely aligned with its strategic interests. Every external actor speaks about rebuilding Syria. Each also hopes to shape what that rebuilt Syria ultimately becomes.

The tragedy is that these ambitions are often presented as assistance. But history teaches us that reconstruction financed from abroad rarely arrives without political conditions attached. Infrastructure projects create influence. Investment creates leverage. Financial dependence gradually limits political independence. Economic integration can generate prosperity, but it can also reduce the ability of states to make sovereign decisions that contradict the interests of those financing their recovery.

That’s why I believe Macron’s visit revealed the beginning of a new struggle over who will inherit the economic and strategic future of Syria.

And that may ultimately prove to be the real legacy of the past fifteen years.

All of my op-eds are freely available, thanks to the generous support of readers like you. Nonetheless, independent journalism takes time, research, and resources. If you find value in this piece or others I’ve published, please consider sharing it or becoming a paid subscriber. Your support, whether big or small, truly matters and helps keep this work going.

—Kevork Almassian is a Syrian geopolitical analyst and the founder of Syriana Analysis.