The upcoming parliamentary elections in Syria mark an extraordinary moment in a nation that has known only one political dynasty for more than half a century. For decades, the Assad family converted the trappings of democracy into empty ritual, orchestrating carefully managed contests where the ruling Ba’ath Party never failed to dominate. The fall of Bashar al-Assad in December ended that iron grip and opened a window, however narrow, for political transition. Yet, what unfolds this Sunday is less a triumph of democracy than a controlled experiment in political reconstruction. With two-thirds of parliamentary seats decided by electoral colleges rather than a direct vote, and the remaining third appointed by interim President Ahmad al-Sharaa, the elections bear the hallmarks of a process designed more for stability and order than for genuine popular sovereignty. The interim authorities argue that the country is simply not in a position to conduct a popular vote, given the immense displacements of people, loss of personal documentation, and fractured geography after nearly 14 years of civil war. While that reasoning has pragmatic merit, it underscores the depth of Syria’s crisis: the collapse of state institutions, mass displacement of millions, and the continuing disputes between Damascus and local authorities in Kurdish-controlled areas and in Sweida, which will not take part in these polls. The result is a parliament that may carry the sheen of renewal but is still shaped by absence and exclusion.
What gives this election symbolic weight is not the degree of freedom in the ballot but rather the test it poses for inclusivity in a country scarred by sectarian violence and social fragmentation. The representation of women and minorities is not guaranteed, and in fact, women comprise only a small fraction of candidates despite rules requiring them to form 20 per cent of the electoral college membership. The absence of Sweida, home to the Druze community, and Kurdish-majority regions in the northeast, highlights the unfinished nature of Syria’s political map. These areas remain estranged from Damascus, their non-participation laying bare the fragility of claims to national unity. The interim authorities have sought to temper this by granting the president the power to appoint one-third of the legislature, a mechanism ostensibly meant to correct imbalances and ensure minority and female representation. Yet the absence of transparency in how electoral colleges are formed, the arbitrary removal of names from candidate lists, and the opaque criteria guiding appointments reinforce suspicions that the process can be manipulated to serve narrow ends. The war years demonstrated how quickly sectarian tensions could be stoked and exploited; ensuring that minority voices are not only symbolically included but genuinely heard will be essential if Syria is to avoid returning to cycles of violence. The true measure of this parliament will not be how it looks on paper but how it functions in addressing the grievances of communities still reeling from war, displacement, and loss.
At stake is the credibility of Syria’s interim leadership and its capacity to steer the country toward a future that does not replicate the authoritarian habits of the past. A parliament born from selective participation and administrative control may buy short-term stability, but it cannot substitute for legitimacy rooted in the popular will. The 30-month mandate given to this legislature is meant to prepare the groundwork for the first nationwide popular vote in decades. That task will be formidable: rebuilding trust in institutions, establishing a reliable registry of voters amid widespread displacement, creating space for political parties beyond individuals, and ensuring conditions under which Syrians in exile can take part. What happens in these months will set the trajectory for whether Syria embarks on a path of reconciliation and reconstruction, or whether it becomes trapped in a halfway house between the old autocracy and a still-distant democracy. Sunday’s elections, therefore, are not an end but a beginning. They will be watched less for who wins seats and more for whether they offer a glimpse of a new political culture—one that acknowledges the diversity, wounds, and aspirations of a battered society. For Syrians exhausted by war, what matters most is not the mechanics of this vote but whether it signals the possibility of a country where their voices count and their differences are not erased but represented.