Made in Tel Aviv
Trump’s Syria playbook isn’t American

Since the earliest days of the Syrian conflict, the guiding principles of US policy have remained remarkably consistent across administrations – from Obama to Trump, through Biden, and now once again under Trump. None have genuinely prioritised Syria’s sovereignty, stability, or democratic transition. Instead, Washington has remained fixated on a narrow set of strategic objectives that closely mirror those of Israel: dismantling Syria’s chemical weapons program, fighting and containing ISIS, curbing Iranian and Hezbollah influence, locating missing US nationals, and paying lip service to the protection of minorities. With the exception of the missing Americans — a concern driven more by domestic electoral politics and the lure of easy foreign policy wins — these priorities reflect the security doctrine of Tel Aviv far more than any independent American policy.

Now, the Trump administration may appoint officials with greater Middle East expertise. But this is no guarantee of more principled or more effective engagement. On the contrary, greater expertise may simply mean a more polished alignment with Israeli preferences. Sources who spoke to Syria in Transition on condition of anonymity say that Trump told Netanyahu that he could take “as much Syrian territory as he wanted,” a statement that underscores how thoroughly US diplomacy has been absorbed into the maximalist objectives of Israel’s current leadership.

It is no longer far-fetched to imagine Washington demanding that Sharaa recognise Israel’s annexation of the Golan Heights — or even accept the definition of Israel as a “Jewish state” — as a precondition for limited sanctions relief. What may begin as a request for technical waivers could quickly escalate into a requirement for formal normalisation. These once unthinkable positions now sit comfortably within the evolution of US foreign policy: from pragmatic disengagement to active obstruction of any political process not tailored to Israel’s ultra-Zionist agenda.

Among the more cynical proposals floated in the Trump-Netanyahu think bubble is said to be the resettlement of Palestinian from Gaza in Syria. Even more plausible, and politically explosive, is the looming push to bring Syria into the Abraham Accords. Sharaa would most likely consider normalising ties with Israel if he believed it would de-list him, help secure his hold on power, and aid in lifting US sanctions. But unlike the UAE, Bahrain, Morocco, or Sudan, Sharaa faces a uniquely inconvenient obstacle: Israeli occupation of Syrian land. The Golan is not a footnote; it is a core question of sovereignty. Sharaa cannot simply accept open-ended Israeli occupation without devastating his already fragile domestic legitimacy. To make it domestically palatable, he would have to stage a performance of negotiation.

Ironically, the only potential silver lining lies in the chaos of Trump’s broader foreign policy. His willingness to fundamentally question the US security relationship with Europe, combined with his erratic economic warfare, have already forced European and Arab states to rethink their strategic dependencies on the US. What Trump described as “liberation day” for the US could, in the long run, become liberation day for Europe and regional actors long shackled to American policy in the Middle East. Painful as the process may be, the breakdown of transatlantic consensus could finally allow Europeans and Arabs to reclaim foreign policy agency. Free from the weight of imposed loyalties, they might finally chart a path rooted in local interests and grounded in organic political realities. That’s to say: something other than what is exclusively good for Israel.