Will the Syrian Army enter Lebanon before Qamishli and Suwayda?

It was a curious spectacle to hear Donald Trump lament the abandonment of America by its Arab friends and Gulf allies in its confrontation with Iran. This, from a country that styles itself as the Gulf’s “guardian,” maintains formidable military bases across the region, and charges handsomely for the privilege. One is reminded of the old proverb: “I came to you, O’ Abdul Muin, for help – only to find you in need of help yourself”.

It now appears that America’s “Abdul Muin” seeks assistance of a different kind: enlisting its protégé, Israel, in the fraught and costly task of disarming Hezbollah in Lebanon. Yet this is no simple undertaking. It is dangerous, uncertain, and likely to incur heavy losses. Instead, the burden may be shifted onto Syria’s new rulers: a coalition of hardened Islamist factions, battle-tested, ideologically driven, and deeply hostile to Hezbollah. They may, in fact, be better suited than Israel for such a mission, particularly if old enmities can be reignited.

Such a move would not come unprepared. It would require both media conditioning and religious groundwork. Indeed, early signs have already surfaced: broadcasts from the “Deterrence of Aggression” [the name of the battle that toppled Assad] platform showing Syrian fighters raising the white banner of monotheism – usually a sign of impending jihad.

The American envoy, Thomas Barrack, has publicly dismissed reports of a Syrian incursion into Lebanon to disarm Hezbollah, despite earlier remarks that seemed to lay the intellectual groundwork. “There is no Middle East,” he declared, “only tribes and villages”, arguing that modern states in the region were artificial constructs born of the 1916 Sykes–Picot Agreement.

Remarkably, the American envoy – effectively Washington’s high commissioner for Syria – has outdone even the most ardent Arab nationalists in his rhetoric, and surpassed Islamist thinkers in tone. Yet his praise was laced with condescension: reducing the grandeur of Islamic civilisation to mere “tribes and villages”. A clumsy formulation, to say the least.

Official denials have followed. Barrack himself took to the X platform to state that claims the United States is encouraging Syria to send troops into Lebanon are “false and inaccurate”. Lebanon’s Deputy Prime Minister, Tarek Mitri, echoed this on 19 March 2026, insisting there is no Syrian readiness for military operations on Lebanese soil.

Yet Reuters, citing five informed sources, reported that Washington had indeed encouraged Damascus to consider deploying forces to eastern Lebanon to assist in disarming Hezbollah. Syria, however, has hesitated, probably fearful of being dragged into a wider regional war and inflaming sectarian tensions.

This caution is hardly surprising. Syria has only just emerged from a devastating war against the former regime and its allies, including Iran and Hezbollah itself. The country remains wounded, and still grappling with internal fragmentation, especially in the northeast and in Suwayda. As the Syrian president recently remarked, “Rebuilding Syria is the greatest duty owed to its people”.

And yet, this would not be the first Syrian intervention in Lebanon. In 1975, Syrian forces entered under the banner of the Arab Deterrent Force and remained for nearly a quarter of a century. When they finally withdrew, Iran stepped into the vacuum.

Despite official denials, certain developments suggest that Syrian involvement in Lebanon may not be entirely far-fetched.

First, the religious groundwork. Syria’s Grand Mufti, Osama al-Rifai, recently reversed his earlier ruling on whether those [mainly Shias] who insult Aisha, the Prophet’s wife, should be considered apostates. After revisiting scholarly consensus, he declared that they should. The issue itself is hardly new, so why revive it now? Was this theological shift prompted by political calculations, or does it hint at something more deliberate?

Second, America’s apparent desire to consolidate Syria. Washington seems intent on dissolving the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces into a unified Syrian framework – and perhaps integrating Druze factions as well. The era of fragmented militias may be drawing to a close. Trump, ever the businessman, prefers dealing in wholesale rather than retail.

Other, more speculative possibilities abound. Perhaps the United States seeks to fold Lebanon – or parts of it – into a greater Syrian entity, while carving out a separate Druze state. Or perhaps it aims to rebalance Syria’s demographic composition by increasing the proportion of minorities. Another theory imagines the construction of a “Sunni wall” to counter regional adversaries, echoing Cold War strategies in Afghanistan, when Islamist fighters were lionised as “freedom fighters”.

A final, more fanciful notion is that America has suddenly become a benevolent force, seeking redemption for past misdeeds. Few would place much faith in that.

It is widely suspected that Washington’s recognition of Syria’s new government – and the removal of Hayat Tahrir al-Sham from terrorism lists – came at a price. That price, it seems, may now be due. Trump’s embrace of Syria’s leadership was not born of affection.

Israel, for its part, appears to be in no hurry. It may prefer to weaken Lebanon further – nibbling at its edges – before concluding any arrangement, which it may later abandon, as precedent suggests.

For ordinary Syrians, worn down by years of conflict, any intervention in Lebanon would ideally yield tangible gains: secure borders, a non-aggression pact, perhaps even a measure of stability. Yet such hopes are likely misplaced.

Should Syria enter Lebanon, it may be under more palatable branding – “preventing civil war between brothers”, perhaps – with an Arab umbrella and token multinational participation, echoing the mid-1970s.

But history offers a sobering lesson: nearly every Arab military intervention in another Arab country has ended in failure.