President Donald Trump is set to embark on the first international trip of his second term this Tuesday, beginning with a high-profile stop in Saudi Arabia. In Riyadh, he is expected to meet not only with Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, but reportedly with Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas, Lebanese President Joseph Aoun, and, in a stunning twist of regional fate, Syria’s de facto leader Ahmed al-Sharaa. 

That last name marks more than a diplomatic novelty—it could signal a profound realignment in Middle Eastern politics. When Bashar al-Assad’s regime collapsed late last year, few imagined that al-Sharaa—long known to the West as Abu Mohammed al-Jolani and once among the United States’ most wanted jihadists—would emerge as the face of Syria’s interim government. Fewer still anticipated that European governments would invite him to their capitals, or that the prospect of Syria entering the West’s strategic orbit would be contemplated even in serious policy circles. Nevertheless, that improbable power shift is now unfolding before our eyes.

Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), the faction now led by al-Sharaa, commands Syria’s post-Assad administrative machinery. As is the case with many Middle Eastern actors, its pedigree is troubling: born of Al Qaeda’s Syrian branch, implicated in countless extrajudicial killings, and most recently responsible for a mass atrocity against religious minorities in March that left more than 1,000 dead. Far from an ideal partner. 

Jihadist rivals like ISIS refuse to acknowledge its authority, and Western publics are rightly wary of engaging with the group. Yet for the United States, the rise of HTS represents a strategic inflection point. Handled with prudence, and without confusing pragmatism for friendship, it may provide an opening to weaken Iranian, Russian, and, to less of a degree, Chinese influence in Syria—an opening that, however uncomfortable, cannot be dismissed with inflexible moralism.

HTS now insists it is no longer tethered to any external organization, claiming independence from both Al Qaeda and rival Salafist movements. That narrative has been central to its rebranding effort, echoed in recent overtures to Western states. Nonetheless, legitimacy remains elusive. Israel, in particular, has taken a hard line, with Foreign Minister Gideon Saar calling the group “a jihadist Islamist terror group from Idlib that took Damascus by force.” The Israeli military response has been swift and unapologetic: Nearly 500 airstrikes and ground incursions into Syrian territory were carried out within days of Assad’s fall. Israel’s principal concern is deterrence, and it has made clear that the rise of HTS, no matter how politically convenient for others, makes little difference to its security posture.

Problematically for the U.S., Israel’s posture diverges sharply from that of Turkey, which played an indispensable role in HTS’s ascent and now seeks to stabilize a post-Assad order in which the group plays a central role. Ankara’s bet is not ideological; it is transactional. HTS serves as a Sunni buffer against Iran, a check on Kurdish separatism, and a lever through which Turkey can shape Syria’s future with minimal Western interference. This emerging fault line—between Israeli hostility and Turkish support—places Washington in a delicate position.

The fate of Syria has deeper implications for the region. Russia, long a pillar of Assad’s survival, is eyeing a new naval presence in Sudan as a hedge against the uncertain future of its Tartus base. At the same time, Israeli officials have gone so far as to lobby for a continued Russian presence in Syria to counterbalance Turkey’s growing sway—a signal of how inverted strategic priorities have become. Faced with this discrepancy, the United States must tread carefully. Publicly, it should avoid strongly choosing sides. Privately, it must facilitate a modus vivendi between Ankara and Jerusalem, making clear that Turkey’s role in preventing the further expansion of Iranian, Russian, and Chinese influence is useful. U.S. diplomacy should aim at geopolitical coherence.

The former Israeli intelligence official and Atlantic Council fellow Danny Citrinowicz suggested that “there is a way to counter the Russian presence in Syria” and that Israel’s effort to use the Russians to counter Turkish presence is a “hopeless cause”—“giving the cat to preserve the milk.”

The truth is that Russia is standing on increasingly uncertain ground. Having poured more than $20 billion into Syria’s defense and infrastructure, and with nearly $600 million in exports to Damascus as recently as 2021, Moscow finds itself entangled in a relationship that no longer guarantees deference. The transactional posture of HTS is hardly reassuring to the Kremlin. Al-Sharaa himself has suggested that HTS remains open to continued cooperation with Russia only in the absence of alternative patrons—remarking, pointedly, that “until now, we have not had offers from other nations to replace [Russian-provided] Syrian arms.” This is not an alliance; it is leverage in search of bidders. Further straining relations, Moscow reportedly refused HTS’s request to hand over Assad—a gesture that, while symbolic, reveals the diminishing intimacy of the old client–patron dynamic. Russia may not be out, but it is no longer unquestionably in. Having Turkey, a NATO ally, take over Russia’s role would be an unquestionably better arrangement.

Iran has invested upwards of $50 billion over the past 13 years to prop up Assad and sustain its land corridor to Hezbollah in Lebanon. HTS, rooted in Sunni Islamist opposition to Iran’s Shia axis, now threatens to upend that investment. Tehran also fears that HTS’s ascendance could embolden insurgency within its own Sunni-majority regions, especially in Sistan-Baluchestan and Khuzestan. This should incentivize more Israel-Turkey cooperation, but much diplomacy is needed. 

Of America’s three core adversaries, China is the least immediately impacted by Syria’s post-Assad transition, but not immune to its implications. Sino-Syrian trade has cratered from its 2011 peak of $2 billion to just over $500 million in 2022. More consequential is Beijing’s concern over potential blowback from the thousands of Uyghur fighters who joined the anti-Assad struggle—many under the HTS banner. The specter of militant returnees, coupled with China’s aversion to Western reassertion in the Middle East, gives Beijing ample reason quietly to oppose HTS’s normalization. Its record at the United Nations speaks volumes: Of the 16 Security Council vetoes it has cast in its history, eight were deployed to shield Assad. Those vetoes were not about Syria per se; they were about resisting Western encroachment. A Syria inching toward conditional alignment with the West, even if governed by HTS, unsettles that calculus.

Western policy appears already to be adjusting to the new terrain. France and Germany have extended diplomatic feelers to al-Sharaa, inviting him to their capitals in cautious but deliberate recognition of his new role. Washington’s recent drawdown of forces to pre–December 2024 levels is no accident; it is a tacit acknowledgement that neither maximalist opposition nor disengaged ambivalence are viable paths forward. For all its baggage, HTS poses serious problems for three of America’s principal adversaries, and this fact alone merits a sober reassessment.

And so, Washington finds itself in possession of a rare, if fraught, alignment of interests. HTS remains far from an ideal partner, but unavoidable as a factor. Its hostility to Iran, its tenuous relationship with Russia, and its irrelevance to China’s long-term regional design open a narrow path for engagement—not of endorsement, but of influence. Offshore balancing, long theorized and rarely executed, becomes not just viable but imperative here. By empowering Turkey to shoulder more responsibility while conditioning any engagement with HTS on behavioral criteria (and guaranteeing that such criteria are met), the United States can shape outcomes without entrenching itself. It can push for a dynamic that guarantees reduced involvement without incurring major reputational risks. 

To do so credibly, Washington must articulate its expectations in no uncertain terms. The demands laid out by Ambassador Dorothy Shea at the United Nations Security Council offer a blueprint. HTS must renounce terrorism unequivocally, forswear aggression toward its neighbors, bar foreign terrorist fighters from government roles, deny Iranian proxies access to Syrian territory, dismantle any remaining weapons of mass destruction, assist in the recovery of missing Americans, and guarantee basic protections for all Syrians under its control. These are not idealistic aspirations; they are sensible conditions.

Encouragingly, early signs suggest that Syria’s new interim government may be receptive. In his first address to the Security Council, Foreign Minister Asaad al-Shibani demanded the lifting of sanctions, framing it as a precondition for cooperation. He also cited ongoing collaboration with the UN’s chemical weapons watchdog and offered to support U.S. efforts to locate disappeared citizens. Moreover, a U.S.-brokered arrangement between the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces and HTS, aimed at a gradual integration of the former into a decentralized Syrian state structure, suggests a willingness to entertain pragmatic compromise.

While no move should be made without proof, and the U.S. should strive to appear interested but cautious, Washington must begin signaling a willingness to ease pressure. A phased reduction—beginning with exemptions on humanitarian trade, then advancing toward selective relief on secondary sanctions—could provide incentive without giving away leverage. Such a move would also counter Chinese and Russian narratives of Western intransigence.

Converting these principles into policy will require quiet conviction. A conditional stabilization fund with Gulf and European partners could test HTS’s capacity for reform. A multilateral donor coordination group would distribute the financial burden while ensuring transparency. Technical oversight, delegated to European and Gulf partners, would help the U.S. avoid overreach. Most delicately, Washington must broker a private understanding between Turkey and Israel on Syria, making clear that destabilizing moves from either side endanger what is already a fragile geopolitical bargain.

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None of this will matter if the United States cannot define its own posture with clarity. It must not be paralyzed by idealism. It must privately treat all actors like potential partners. The goal, after all, is to facilitate a dynamic that makes it easier to fixate on our hemisphere and the Indo-Pacific. We must firmly state that Syria is no longer viewed as a tabula rasa onto which American values can be projected. It is a fractured terrain where hard choices and harder tradeoffs now rule the day. 

The goal is not to absolve HTS. The goal is to deny adversaries strategic depth, to shape the margins of regional order, and to retain a seat, albeit one ideally not in the first row, at the table. The U.S. can both posture attentiveness and a willingness to act while delegating authority. 

If pursued with patience and precision, such a strategy would cost less than intervention, yet achieve more than disengagement. It would signal that the United States, while weary of endless war, is not retreating from the hard work of diplomacy. It would affirm America’s ability to lead not just through force, but through finesse. And above all, it would confront the uncomfortable reality that in today’s Syria, power resides in imperfect hands—but that shaping what those hands do with it is still, decisively, within America’s grasp. That alone makes engagement not just tolerable, but necessary.