Three horizontal stripes: green, white, and black. Three red stars on the white band, representing the northern, southern, and eastern provinces. This is the “flag of independence,” which flew over Syria from 1930 to 1958, then again briefly from 1961 to 1963, before being replaced by the pan-Arab banners—black, white, and red—of Nasser’s movement and later the Baath Party. Today, this old flag has been revived by Sunni Islamists who have seized control in Damascus.
Behind this return to an earlier emblem lies a dual political message. On one hand, it signals the end of the Assad era. On the other, it represents a deliberate distancing from other Islamist movements. Groups ranging from Al-Qaeda to the Taliban, and ultimately ISIS, have preferred monochrome banners—typically black, sometimes white or green—adorned with bold religious calligraphy. These flags symbolize a universal Islamic Caliphate, transcending local national boundaries.
Syria’s struggle to exist has spanned just over a century. Its birth certificate? The secret 1916 agreement negotiated by British diplomat Mark Sykes and his French counterpart François Georges-Picot.
By adopting instead the secular three-striped flag of 1930, the new rulers of Damascus seem to declare themselves Syrians above all else. This gesture aligns with the broader strategy of apparent moderation pursued by their leader, Abu Mohamed al-Julani.
Syria’s struggle to exist has spanned just over a century. Its birth certificate? The secret 1916 agreement negotiated by British diplomat Mark Sykes and his French counterpart François Georges-Picot, outlining a prospective division of the Ottoman Levant. Britain aimed to control the Holy Land on both sides of the Jordan River and Mesopotamia. France claimed the central “Fertile Crescent,” stretching from the Mediterranean to the Euphrates, including Damascus and Aleppo.
The territory, renamed “Syria” (Suriya in Arabic), was then sparsely populated: 2.5 million people spread across more than 200,000 square kilometers. It lacked administrative unity. Under Ottoman rule, the region was split between the Vilayet of Aleppo, which extended into parts of Anatolia, and the Vilayet of Damascus, reaching as far south as the Red Sea. Economic cohesion was equally absent. Caravan routes and, since the 19th century, railroads connected cities to Anatolia, Iraq, Egypt, and Arabia. Yet, as American historian Martha Neff Kessler observed, “local economies developed without cross-regional connections.”
There was no ethnic unity either. While most of the population spoke Arabic, minorities spoke Kurdish, Aramaic, Armenian, Circassian, Turkish dialects, and even Greek. Religious divisions were stark. Sunni Muslims, forming a slim majority, clashed with Shia Muslims and smaller sects like the Alawites and Druze. Among Christians, who comprised a quarter of the population, distinctions existed between Catholics, Orthodox, Protestants, and members of the “Churches of the East,” with further divisions based on specific liturgical practices. Jewish communities thrived in major cities, while the Yezidis, adherents of pre-Islamic faiths, survived on the fringes of Iraq.
The Turks, proud and often ruthless overlords, maintained order in this labyrinth by relying on tribes and familial clans, delegating local governance to them—peacekeeping, minor policing, agricultural management, trade regulation, and oversight of religious communities. When the Turks departed, these small entities were left to fend for themselves, unleashing disputes.
Charles de Gaulle, who served on the French staff in Beirut from 1929 to 1931, would later remark: “Here, we find peoples who have never been satisfied with anything or anyone. ...”
Initially a simple project when signed, the Sykes-Picot Agreement took shape when the British conquered Iraq and the Levant in late 1917 and throughout 1918. The San Remo Conference in 1920, followed by the League of Nations in 1922, officially placed the former Ottoman territories under the “mandate” of London and Paris. In 1919, a Levantine Army, commanded by General Henri Gouraud, one of the victors of the Second Battle of the Marne, took control of the territories allocated to France. By 1921, it had grown to 65,000 men before being reduced to less than 30,000. Gouraud, with little diplomacy, expelled the Hejazi prince Faisal ibn Hussein, proclaimed “King of the Arabs” in Damascus in March 1920, forcing him to settle for the Iraqi crown under British auspices.
There was no ethnic unity either. While most of the population spoke Arabic, minorities spoke Kurdish, Aramaic, Armenian, Circassian, Turkish dialects, and even Greek.
While the British pursued clear goals in the Middle East—strengthening an Arab-African empire stretching west of India, including Egypt, Sudan, Aden, and the Persian Gulf, and securing oil resources—the French had more ambiguous ambitions. Discovering the tomb of Saladin, the Kurdish sultan who expelled the Crusaders from Jerusalem in 1187, Gouraud reportedly declared, “Awaken, Saladin! We are back. My presence here consecrates the victory of the Cross over the Crescent.” However, the Third Republic did not entirely share this vision. At best, France sought to protect Christian minorities, long tied to the country since the Ancien Régime and partly Francophone due to Catholic congregations.
The task of organizing the French mandate fell to Robert de Caix de Saint-Amour, Secretary General of the French High Commission in Syria. He dismissed the idea of a unified Syrian “nation” as both illusory and dangerous, opting instead to establish autonomous states reflecting former Ottoman administrative divisions and distinct communities. Thus, a Greater Lebanon was created around Beirut for the Christian community, followed by Muslim states in Aleppo and Damascus, a Druze state, an Alawite state, and even a Kurdish region.
While Christians, Alawites, and Kurds were satisfied, Sunnis and Druze were far less so. Druze clans revolted in 1925, and the unrest spread nationwide. Reinforcements and the tactical skill of General Edouard Andréa were required to quell the uprising by 1927.
France eventually “reunified” Damascus, Aleppo, and the Jebel Druze under a federal regime called the Syrian Republic but preserved Alawite autonomy and formally separated Lebanon into its own republic. In 1934, both states were offered gradual paths to independence under close French oversight.
World War II hastened the process. After France’s defeat by Germany in 1940, the Levant, loyal to Vichy, was occupied by the British in 1941. General de Gaulle granted full independence in the name of Free France on September 27, 1941, but French troops remained until 1946. In total, France governed the Syrian-Lebanese territories for barely two decades.
From this brief mandate, Syria inherited a parliamentary system modeled after France’s, but political parties were little more than masks for clans and tribes. Disillusioned, many intellectuals and officers sought salvation in nationalist dictatorship or a union with a Greater Arab Nation. Kurdish officer Adib al-Shishakli established an authoritarian regime from 1949 to 1954. Syria then briefly joined Nasser’s United Arab Republic in 1958, only to leave in 1961. Eventually, Alawite air force general Hafez al-Assad seized power in 1969, supported by the ultra-nationalist Baath Party.
Though Syria’s population increased tenfold in a century, its composition remained unchanged. Assad relied primarily on Alawites and, secondarily, on other non-Sunni Arabs.
In theory, Assad’s regime championed threefold unity—of Syria, the Levant, and the entire Arab world. In practice, anthropological realities prevailed. Though Syria’s population increased tenfold in a century, its composition remained unchanged. Assad relied primarily on Alawites and, secondarily, on other non-Sunni Arabs. In 1982, he crushed a Sunni rebellion in Homs and Hama.
His son Bashar, succeeding him in 2000, sought to emulate his father during the 2011 Sunni uprising in the north, the quasi-secession of Kurdish Rojava, and the rise of ISIS. He survived for over a decade with support from Russia, Iran, and Lebanon’s Hezbollah. However, Russia became bogged down in Ukraine after 2022, while Hezbollah suffered defeats against Israel in a war recklessly launched in 2023.
With Sunnis emerging as default victors, the question remains: can they rebuild a viable Syria? A flag does not make a state, just as one swallow does not make a spring.
A first version of this article appeared in Valeurs Actuelles on December 28, 2024.
