Syria suffers from severe political polarization, under the weight of which the already small spaces for civil activism are eroding; spaces that were marginalized by Baathist rule and systematically repressed since the beginning of the Syrian revolution in 2011.

This polarization sharply manifested in cyberspace alongside the Independence Day sit-in on April 17, 2026, dividing two primary factions: one supporting the Al-Sharaa government and justifying all its policies, and another demonizing it, deeming it an illegitimate entity committing violations against Syrians. Due to the absence of active political parties, the atrophy of Syrian civil society inside the country, and its weak organization in the diaspora, social media platforms have become the most utilized spaces for expressing this polarization. This is an unhealthy situation given the architecture of these networks, which reinforces individualism and drowns users in their own bubbles, showing them only what validates their preconceived notions. These platforms are also easily exploited by "troll farms," which appear highly effective at fueling sectarianism and ethnic conflicts in Syria.

The absence of political parties, the weakness of civil society, and the toxicity of social media are factors that exacerbate polarization. However, they are merely the tip of the iceberg of a legacy of pain that Syrians have yet to discuss with one another; or at least, have not discussed sufficiently.

In German memory, the phrase "Why did you leave us behind the wall?" is tied to the era of Germany’s division between the Soviets and the victorious Allies of World War II. This division was cemented by the Berlin Wall in 1961, when a single society was split into two politically and economically contradictory worlds: West Germany, under American, French, and British influence, and East Germany, under Soviet hegemony. As the conflict evolved into what became known as the Cold War, the wall no longer merely isolated neighbours from one another; it separated two worlds: one believing in socialism and the power of the centralized state, and another believing in the freedom of ownership, the self-governing capacity of markets, and the centrality of the individual and their rights.

During the Cold War, East Germany lived in relative isolation, ruled by a closed regime, while West Germany witnessed openness and prosperity. Following the fall of the wall, the joy of reunification did not prevent many East Germans from expressing their profound sense of betrayal, feeling they had been left to face their fate behind the wall without adequate support or genuine solidarity from their West German brethren. Thus, this phrase condensed a collective memory heavily burdened with reproach, reflecting a gap in experiences and suffering within a single society far more than it embodied a bygone history.

The German example is not far removed from the reality of Syrians during the war. In 2013, market activity in the south of Damascus was almost normal, while just a few kilometres away, the besieged Yarmouk Camp was being bombarded, with news of its famine filling the internet and news broadcasts. The same applied to eastern and western Aleppo, alongside other Syrian regions.

Over the 14 years of the revolution, a state of "fermented pain" took shape. Ever since the regime unleashed violence against protesters, the rebelling cities and towns entered a cycle of death: protest, martyr, funeral, martyr, funeral, arrest, returning of corpse, funeral, and protest. With the emergence of the Free Syrian Army and subsequently the Islamic factions, violence took a new turn, escalating into the bombardment of cities with barrel bombs and warplanes.

President Obama drew a red line against the use of chemical weapons, yet the Assad regime crossed it repeatedly, and all Washington did was ensure the handover of the chemical arsenal. With every Russian and Chinese veto in the Security Council against any measure to halt Assad's criminality, a popular perception took root among many Syrians living under bombardment that the international community did not care, thereby deepening their sense of betrayal.

The "audience of the revolution’s" feeling of political betrayal extended to those Syrians who had not suffered at the hands of the regime, viewing them as similarly apathetic. Furthermore, the support of a class of artists and intellectuals for Assad's crimes left the impression that these individuals were not merely indifferent, but were in fact accomplices in the atrocities.

This fermentation of pain resulted in widespread cynicism, as well as instances of political and violent extremism, with increasing numbers joining radical militant groups. In combating this "fermented pain," intellectuals and civil activists abroad attempted to fight extremism by focusing the discussion on international politics, emphasizing that it is built on interests rather than ethics, and cannot be projected onto national politics, which must be founded on ethics and the law to achieve the people's interests. They also highlighted how the regime's repressive apparatus left people with no choices: it was either fighting, dying in detention centres and under bombardment, or remaining silent.

These were attempts to preserve what remained of the Syrian social fabric, striving to humanize the experience of silence and understand it rather than denounce it as treason. When I visited Damascus after the fall of the regime, the most frequently asked question during the social confrontation between those returning from the North (Idlib) and the residents of Damascus was: "Why did you leave us behind the wall?"

Since the fall of Assad, criminals associated with his regime have been attempting to reintegrate themselves into their sects, trying to convince their communities that sectarian affiliation supersedes affiliation to Syria. They do this by reviving the public image of religious figures who had supported the regime and exploiting sectarian grievances to dilute the suffering endured by all Syrians under Baathist rule.

In this context, narratives such as "nothing has changed" or "just as the Baath committed crimes previously, the current regime is committing crimes" are employed, referencing the two waves of violence in the coastal region and As-Suwayda.

It is difficult to compare anything to the crimes of the Baath’s regime. Furthermore, I would argue, that the policies of the Al-Sharaa government cannot be described as targeting a specific religious group, since one of the first individuals arrested for his association with Baathist crimes was the Sunni Grand Mufti of the Republic, Ahmad Badr Al-Din Hassoun, and one of the first campaigns to integrate military factions was the campaign against Ahmad Al-Awda's faction in Daraa, who is also Sunni. Religious groups are living in Syrian cities without being targeted. However, this does not negate the fact that government-affiliated forces committed crimes and violations against civilians in the coast and As-As-Suwayda. The perpetrators must be held accountable, establishing the rule of law over all factions. Nevertheless, this does not wash away the crimes of the systematic killing machine of the Assad regime against Syrians.

Today, there is a state of social "reproach" within Syrian society between Syrians who suffered the bombardment of Assad's planes, and those who did not experience it. Despite the sharp disparities in Syrians' experiences, one can observe the early signs of agreement on the principle of citizenship and the right of all citizens to express their demands. This can be considered a positive legacy of the 2011 revolution, and a euphoria experienced by its Syrian protesters around the world, who risked their lives to raise the word "No" in the face of the "Baath Party." It is a euphoria one can see in their eyes whenever a protest takes place and is protected by General Security in Syria. Illogical questions, detached from Syria's historical context, swirl in minds exhausted by repression: "How do they return home after the protest? Walking? Running? Where do they hide the corpses and the wounded from clashes with security forces while they are out in the middle of the squares like this?"

However, the consensus on the principle of citizenship and the right to protest collides with a deep disagreement on how to deal with individuals who collaborated with or were part of the former regime, some of whom are now participating in protests against the Al-Sharaa government. On one hand, Syrians who lived in regime-controlled areas view coexistence with its collaborators as a de facto reality imposed by a state structure thoroughly infiltrated by the Baath Party as a network of interests and power. Consequently, they see no necessity for the absolute political exclusion of these individuals. Conversely, a broad segment of those who participated in the revolution or suffered bombardment and arrest believe that political cooperation with individuals who were part of the Baath Party's repressive apparatus is a violation of national moral responsibility and an acceptance of the regime's crimes. This stance goes beyond feelings of anger over the limited application of transitional justice against perpetrators of gross violations, extending to an anxiety and fear over their ability to restore the system of repression, with all the violations against Syrians that it entails.

Discussing political parties and civil society in the current Syrian context is not a luxury, but a necessity for reorganizing the public sphere and preventing society from sliding toward instability. The absence of organized political frameworks paves the way for undisciplined forms of expression, which may be susceptible to infiltration or manipulation. Here, the function of political parties manifests as a bulwark against the infiltration of so-called "regime remnants". This is because affiliation with parties, unions, and civil society organizations presupposes internal mechanisms for vetting and accountability, making it difficult for figures associated with the former regime to operate freely without scrutiny. When suspicions arise regarding them, the party, union, or organization is compelled to take a clear stance; either by clarifying the accusations or expelling members suspected of actual involvement in crimes. Over time, this creates a state of transparency, allowing society to distinguish between forces committed to political exclusion and those that are lenient in this regard.

Political parties and civil society play a pivotal role in achieving stability. They do not merely gather individuals; they reshape political action itself by transforming individual stances into clear, debatable partisan platforms. Through organization, genuine political actors can be distinguished from opportunists or those connected to the networks of the former regime. When ideas are presented publicly and subjected to societal debate, they are gradually filtered, causing exclusionary rhetoric tied to the legacy of authoritarianism to recede or be contained.

On another level, political parties open the door to a different model of political representation that transcends the narrow identities that prevailed during the Baath Party era. This comes at the expense of the rise of a more cohesive national discourse, wherein Syrians choose to join parties based on ideas and political stances, rather than religious, sectarian, or regional affiliations. This shift does not abolish the role of religious actors, but rather socially repositions them, making them more influential within the relief and moral spheres, and less influential in the political arena.

Once again, Syrians are shouting in each other's faces from distant islands of understanding, on social media platforms and in small civil society spaces. They shout in anger at times and with reproach at others, yet the cry is the same: "Why did you leave us behind the wall?" or "Why are you leaving us behind the wall today?"

Today, silence is condemned in an incomprehensible manner, and many refuse to humanize silence; even those who were themselves silent in the recent past.

Perhaps overcoming the current state of polarization necessitates acknowledging the Baath's crimes against Syrians without any "buts" or "whys," and steering clear of attempts to wipe off over half a century of the former regime's crimes with those recently committed in the coast and As-As-Suwayda. A massacre is certainly no solution to previous massacres; at the same time, a new massacre does not erase the old ones. The solution lies in transitional justice and adherence to the rule of law. The political isolation of those involved in Baathist crimes within the new state, political parties, and civil society is imperative. Furthermore, parties and civil organizations must be allowed to exercise their role in fostering societal dialogue and entrenching democratic values, giving every individual the opportunity to vote and be elected. A year and a half after the fall of the regime, the formation of political parties remains shrouded in legal ambiguity, and many civil society bodies demand the transitional authority to implement democracy, while they themselves fail to practice democracy and transparency in their own internal elections.

Rebuilding trust among Syrians requires transforming their conflict from a struggle over memory and identity into legitimate political competition governed by clear rules. This necessitates the presence of leaders within Syrian political parties and civil society organizations who believe in the imperative of including all voices and representing them fairly, within a governance structure that believes in democracy, recognizes the shades of color between black and white, and remains far removed from severe political polarization.