By Malik al-Hafez
In recent months, Syria has become a testing ground for unprecedented political formulations. The West, which has witnessed the rise of political Islam in the region since the 1970s, no longer treats the Islamic phenomenon as an absolute ideological enemy. Instead, it now views it as a tool that can be molded and reproduced within what has come to be known as the “Neo-Islam.”
This phase is not an organic development from within, but rather the product of an explicit Western desire to engineer a “new Islam”, a political, social, and cultural framework designed to regulate public life and recast Syrian identity in line with Western visions of security and stability in the region.
This concept, linked to Michel Foucault’s notions of biopolitical regulation, seeks to repackage political Islam into a functional discourse that guarantees both regional and international balances. What is demanded is a domesticated version of political Islam, ready to be integrated into a fragile transitional political structure, playing the role of “local policeman” under the supervision of the international system.
The essential difference between traditional political Islam and what is now being imposed is that the West no longer fears Islam as an abstract ideological force. Rather, it seeks to domesticate and instrumentalize it. The “Neo-Islam” is not about a return to scripture, nor even the revival of a caliphate project, but rather the disciplining of Islamic discourse into a model of “civil–sectarian Islam” capable of managing sectarian, gender, and economic balances calibrated to external demands.
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Historically, political Islam, whether Brotherhood-based or Salafi-based, embodied a confrontational stance against the nation-state. Today, however, it is being tamed and transformed into something closer to a “service-oriented Islam”: one that accepts liberal economics, recognizes Western-drawn geopolitical borders, refrains from opposing ties with great powers, yet still maintains symbolic authority over society.
Religion thereby becomes a tool for the “management of obedience.” The transitional authority in Damascus, even if it lacks deep constitutional or national legitimacy, wields a religious discourse that is being polished and domesticated to align with the logic of “stability over democracy.” This logic, embraced by the West since September 11, 2001, replaces the ideal of a civil state with that of a “disciplined religious state” serving as a buffer against chaos.
In his recent statements, transitional president Ahmad al-Sharaa sought to present himself in a different light, explicitly denying any affiliation with jihadist groups or the Muslim Brotherhood. He has attempted to frame himself as an independent political actor, detached from the legacies of past fundamentalism.
Yet, when read in broader context, this discourse is inseparable from the essence of the “Neo-Islam” project the West seeks to entrench in Syria. His denials do not signify a genuine intellectual revision or a radical transformation, but rather a symbolic strategy aimed at projecting an image of an Islamic discourse marketable abroad as an acceptable alternative to chaos.
In this sense, al-Sharaa’s discourse becomes a living example of how “Neo-slam” operates: a double-coded language. Outwardly, it presents moderation and denial of jihadist ties, while inwardly it preserves the religious and sectarian mechanisms of control that secure dominance. The aim is not to dismantle the foundational structures of fundamentalism, but to repackage them in a way that better aligns with European and American requirements. The discourse itself thus becomes a tool to sustain the Western-preferred formula: a domesticated authority with a religious cover, negotiable internationally, yet capable of controlling the domestic scene through symbolic obedience.
Al-Sharaa’s denial is therefore a defensive discourse that intersects with what political sociology describes as the production of symbolic legitimacy. He addresses Western capitals, which have repeatedly pressed him for assurances that the current government is not a cover for radical currents. His strategy is to “deny origins” in order to present himself as a leader cut off from his past, just as other movements have attempted to erase their violent roots to enter the sphere of international legitimacy.
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Thus, reading his statements as mere disavowal misses the key point: denial itself functions as a mechanism for reproducing legitimacy within a new political field. Here, denial becomes a form of implicit recognition. When he distances himself from those references, he does not offer an inclusive national alternative, but rather confirms his place within a narrow equation that embeds religion at the heart of politics in carefully controlled doses. This strategy reflects precisely the logic of the “Neo-Islam,” which transforms religious discourse from a source of direct confrontation with the West into an instrument aligned with Western notions of an “acceptable Islam.” In this process, al-Sharaa emerges as part of a larger operation to domesticate political Islam, rebranding it as a wrapper for managing a crisis-ridden society, without ever allowing it to exceed its functional role.
Syria has thus become an open laboratory for testing this new formula. The West, which once feared that Syrian chaos might spawn extremist jihadist emirates, now seeks the opposite: the consolidation of an “Islamic” authority, albeit in a tamed version, willing to meet minimal international expectations and operating within a carefully regulated political space. Though its internal structure may appear hardline, it undergoes constant reshaping to render it suitable for international investment.
The central point here is that the West is not dealing with Islam as a religion per se, but as a political identity subject to reconfiguration. The “Neo-Islam” in Syria is but the latest iteration of what was earlier attempted with “Turkish Islam” or “Moroccan Islam,” where religion is reintroduced as a framework to regulate public life.
The danger of this project lies in its hollowing out of the transitional moment of any true national meaning. Instead of becoming an opportunity to craft an inclusive project rooted in citizenship and the civil state, the transition risks turning into a workshop for producing a “functional Islam”, one that keeps society captive to the duality of religious obedience and international tutelage.
