In a dimly lit bar in Damascus, young men and women sway to the rhythm of a song praising Ahmed al-Sharaa, a former al-Qaeda fighter turned de facto ruler of Syria. The scene is surreal—a moment of revelry under the rule of Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), an organization once synonymous with jihadist extremism.

For anyone unfamiliar with Syria’s sectarian and political realities, this might seem like an absurd contradiction. How can a society that once feared jihadist rule now dance, voluntarily, to songs glorifying a man who rose through the ranks of al-Qaeda? The answer lies in something deeper than ideology. HTS may preach a strict Islamist doctrine, but it rules through something much older and more potent: sectarian identity and historical grievance.

A Jihadist in the Presidential Palace

Al-Sharaa did not seize power in a dramatic military offensive like ISIS once did. He climbed the ranks carefully, positioning himself as the inevitable leader of Syria’s post-war order. As HTS tightened its grip on power, it learned the lesson that past jihadist movements failed to grasp: People don’t just rally around religion—they rally around identity.

In Syria, being Sunni is not just about faith; it is a historical and ethnic marker. It carries with it the weight of centuries—the legacy of the Umayyads, the fall of Sunni power under the Alawite-led Assad regime, and the long-standing feeling of marginalization. When HTS took power, it did not need to convert every Sunni to its ideology; it only needed them to believe that this was finally a government that represented them.

And so, HTS does not impose its rule with brute force—not yet, at least. Instead, it plays the long game. It allows bars in Damascus to stay open. It does not crack down on dancing Sunnis, as long as the music pays tribute to the right figures. It permits a certain level of secular indulgence—not out of tolerance, but out of calculation.

The Sunni Grievance and the Jihadist’s Opportunity

For more than half a century, Syria’s Sunni majority lived under an Alawite-dominated regime. The Assad dynasty built an intelligence state where Alawites filled the most powerful positions in the military and security services, while Sunnis—who make up nearly 75% of the population—were systematically excluded.

HTS, despite its jihadist roots, has masterfully tapped into this grievance. It has framed its rule not as an Islamist takeover, but as a Sunni reclamation of power. This is why, for many Sunnis in Syria, HTS is not seen as an occupying force but as a necessary correction to decades of sectarian injustice.

And this is where the secular Sunnis of Damascus come into play. They may not be Islamists, they may drink, they may dance—but deep down, they still identify as Sunnis. HTS knows this, and it is willing to accommodate their contradictions, as long as they accept one fundamental truth: Syria is now a Sunni-led state.

HTS’s Foreign Commanders and the Future of Syria

But HTS is not just a Syrian movement. Al-Sharaa’s government has embraced a transnational jihadist vision, appointing foreign Islamist commanders to key positions in Syria’s new military.

• Jordanian officers with ties to Salafi networks now oversee security operations.
• Uyghur militants from China’s Xinjiang region, battle-hardened from years of jihad, have taken command in key strategic areas.
• Turkish-backed Islamists hold significant influence in military decision-making.

HTS does not believe in nationalism in the traditional sense. Its vision is one of a broader Sunni-Islamic revival, where Syria is not merely a country but a part of a greater movement.

However, this is also where the contradictions of its rule may come back to haunt it. HTS has justified its existence by appealing to Sunni nationalism in Syria, yet it is handing over military power to foreign jihadists.

This will not go unnoticed. The same Sunni Syrians who have passively accepted HTS’s rule may not be so forgiving if their new state becomes a playground for foreign militants.

What This Means for the Rest of Syria

The rise of HTS is not just a concern for those in its direct sphere of control. Other Syrian communities—particularly the Druze and the Kurds—are watching closely.

• The Druze in southern Syria have refused to disarm, knowing that in a country ruled by a Sunni jihadist government, they could easily become the next target.
• The Kurds in the northeast, despite being under US protection, are unlikely to surrender their weapons, understanding that the moment American forces leave, HTS and its allies will see them as an obstacle to Sunni hegemony.

The case of Wadi al-Nasara (the Christian Valley) is the latest warning. There, unarmed Christians were attacked by armed factions from neighboring Sunni villages, a direct consequence of the power shift. If Christians who surrendered their weapons are now at the mercy of militia violence, why would the Druze or the Kurds trust any disarmament process?

Conclusion: A Long Game with Dangerous Consequences

Ahmed al-Sharaa’s rise is not an accident, nor is it temporary. He and HTS have crafted a model of governance that is more sustainable than past jihadist regimes. They have learned from the failures of ISIS, which ruled with terror and collapsed under its own brutality. They have learned from the Taliban, which isolated itself diplomatically and struggled to gain legitimacy.

HTS, under al-Sharaa, is playing a different game. It is embedding itself into the historical and sectarian fabric of Syria, allowing just enough flexibility to maintain support while quietly reshaping society.

But this balancing act cannot last forever. At some point, HTS will have to choose between its global jihadist ambitions and its reliance on Syrian Sunni nationalism.

• If it leans too hard into international jihadism, it risks alienating its Sunni support base.
• If it leans too hard into Syrian nationalism, it risks losing the loyalty of its foreign jihadist allies.

For now, Damascus still dances—albeit to the tune of a jihadist president. But as history has shown, the music never lasts forever.