By Rustum Mahmoud
Syrian oral history tells of a moment during General Salah Jadid’s de facto leadership (1966–1970), when then-Information Minister Sami al-Jundi proposed publishing the religious texts of the Alawite sect. The aim was to diffuse the religious and political ambiguity that surrounded the Alawites, particularly after a group of Alawite officers, chief among them Jadid himself and Hafez al-Assad, rose to power following the 1966 Baath Party coup.
The reaction among Syria’s socially conservative Sunni majority was intense and hostile. Quietly, but persistently, many within that base went so far as to “excommunicate” Alawites, viewing them through a mythologized lens not unlike that applied to alien or enemy groups, fearful, exaggerated, and deeply suspicious.
Jadid rejected al-Jundi’s proposal, arguing that it would only deepen the religious and social polarization within the country. Such a move, he said, ran counter to the Baath Party’s self-image as a secular, civil movement. The regime, in turn, chose to act as though the issue simply didn’t exist.
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That policy, denial at the surface, sectarian structuring underneath, continued for more than five decades under the leadership of Hafez al-Assad and later his son, Bashar. The essence of their political model, inherited from Jadid, rested on two contradictory pillars: First, the implementation of profoundly sectarian practices within the state apparatus, especially in terms of loyalty networks, the organization of security services, and the inner core of the regime, all of which were built overwhelmingly with loyal Alawite members. It’s crucial to note that these policies didn’t necessarily benefit the broader Alawite community, but rather utilized its members as tools to secure the regime’s power.
Second, to balance this inner sectarianism, the regime adopted compensatory policies that offered symbolic and institutional privileges to the Sunni majority. These included the exclusive use of Sunni jurisprudence in education and the judiciary, formal recognition of Sunni Islam as the state’s religious identity, and Sunni control over the Ministry of Religious Endowments. Furthermore, the state adopted Sunni religious holidays and customs into its official calendar, reinforcing a symbolic Sunni dominance.
The Baathist regime did all of this under a cloak of what might be called “functional secularism”, a secularism that served more to legitimize and beautify the authoritarian structure than to genuinely separate religion from state. But this camouflage couldn’t contain the growing sectarian infection. Over time, resentment built on both sides, fermenting a toxic mix of mutual suspicion and invisible grievance. Alawites continued to feel excluded from the symbolic heart of the nation, believing the state was still dominated by Sunni norms. Meanwhile, many Sunnis came to believe that Syria’s power structure was entirely Alawite.
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This political trajectory was compounded by deeper religious ambiguities. Unlike other religious minorities in Syria, such as the Druze, Ismailis, and Twelver Shi’a, the Alawite sect had no clearly defined, publicly accessible religious texts. Its belief system remained largely obscure to outsiders. Moreover, it lacked a formal clerical hierarchy; its religious leadership was among the weakest and most marginalized in the country.
This vacuum, created by the regime’s opaque sectarian policies and the doctrinal vagueness of Alawite beliefs, allowed religious hardliners to weave fantastical, conspiratorial narratives about Alawites. In the Assad era, these narratives lurked beneath the surface. Today, they’ve become overt, vulgar, and shameless.
These fabricated perceptions now fuel a growing wave of political and physical violence against Alawites. Their rights to civil life and social dignity are increasingly dismissed, as if they are expendable, a group to be erased rather than engaged.
There are, broadly speaking, two paths out of this grim and dangerous impasse, two potential solutions to this long-festering “Alawite question.” Only the ruling regime has the authority to decide which path Syria will take.
It is either a path toward Syria becoming a truly civil state, where religion and sect are stripped of any sovereign or political function. A place where no Syrian feels superior, or inferior based on sectarian affiliation. In this model, religion retains a symbolic presence in public life and informs some civil laws but does not dictate state policy. Sectarian tensions would fade into irrelevance, no longer visible, effective, or meaningful, just as they have in many modern secular nations.
Alternatively, Syria could officially embrace its Sunni majority identity and restructure the state accordingly. But to do so justly, the constitution must first recognize all other sects, especially the Alawites, the country’s second-largest religious group, and secure their place in the public sphere. This would entail establishing separate systems of education and justice for each sect, and formalizing a sectarian quota system across state institutions, administrative structures, and the nation’s symbolic life.
