In the immediate aftermath of the Assad regime’s collapse, employees at Syria’s two major telecom companies—Syriatel and MTN Syria—briefly stopped working before returning to their posts. These companies, long operated by proxies for Bashar al-Assad and the Presidential Palace, now face aggressive competition from new players seeking control over one of Syria’s most lucrative sectors. Chief among them is a mysterious entity known as Al-Mujtahid Technical Company, whose operations span from installing surveillance towers to selling furniture. As questions swirl over its legitimacy and purpose, observers wonder whether this is merely a continuation of Assad-era practices under a new banner.
The Telecommunication State
Under Assad, Syria’s telecommunications sector was not simply a revenue stream—though it generated at least 12% of state income—it was a key pillar of authoritarian control. Despite weak infrastructure before the war and widespread decay during it, the regime weaponized telecom networks to monitor citizens and enforce its reign of silence. A poignant example of this was uncovered by Daraj, which found surveillance transcripts of mundane personal phone conversations among the remnants of a fire-damaged intelligence branch in Damascus, destroyed on December 8, 2024.
This expansive surveillance operation could not have existed without complete dominance over both public and “private” telecom channels. Assad built a telecommunications empire that extended far beyond phone calls, relying on opaque alliances and shadow financing. Whoever inherits this sector is stepping into a web of corruption, secrecy, and political manipulation.
From Rami Makhlouf to the Palace
Following the very public fallout between Assad and his cousin Rami Makhlouf between 2018 and 2019—culminating in the seizure of Syriatel and MTN—the regime moved to whitewash the telecom sector’s reputation. Advisors like Mansour Azzam and Yasar Ibrahim (sanctioned in 2021) began searching for new figures to front the industry.
This led to the creation of a constellation of smaller companies under the umbrella of Yasar Ibrahim’s “Group,” including names like Al-Burj Investment, Al-Burj Al-Thahabi, Opal Planet, and SpaceTel. These firms became the exclusive suppliers to Syriatel and MTN, providing technical support, towers, spare parts, and development services. Contracts were non-negotiable, depriving the original operators of autonomy.
Moreover, these companies served as conduits for foreign investors—primarily from the Gulf—who became financial lifelines for a regime running dry. Ownership was split between regime insiders including Ibrahim, his aide Ahmed Khalil, and Basil Mansour—all under international sanctions. Khalil, according to two anonymous sources, held sole legal authority over financial transactions for the group.
In 2021, Syria announced the launch of a third mobile operator: Wafa Telecom, largely controlled by Yasar Ibrahim. It was later revealed to have close ties with Iran’s Revolutionary Guard. Documents obtained by Daraj suggest the Russian company Portel was scheduled to provide equipment to Wafa, with contracts signed in Saint Petersburg. Despite vague language, one report mentioned the company also supplied equipment to Iran, albeit discreetly. The source of this intelligence? A Wafa Telecom executive.
Collapse, Flight, and Continuity
After Assad fled to Russia and his key operatives dispersed—with Ahmed Khalil escaping to the UAE carrying sensitive documents and cash—many expected telecom operations to grind to a halt. Yet, contrary to expectations, most of the infrastructure and contracts remained intact. Daraj learned that companies like Al-Burj and Opal resumed normal operations just days after the regime’s collapse, now under the name Al-Mujtahid Technical Company.
Registered with a modest capital of 50 million Syrian pounds, this new entity lists activities including the installation and maintenance of telecommunications towers, radar systems, fiber optics, and oddly, the wholesale sale of furniture and gypsum decor. The owners remain unknown and untraceable in public records.
An executive at MTN Syria told Daraj, on condition of anonymity, that the company is resisting pressure to sign contracts with Al-Mujtahid, fearing a repeat of the coerced agreements signed under the Assad-era “Al-Burj scenario.”
Who Benefits Now?
Sources close to the transitional government led by Ahmad al-Sharaa confirmed to Daraj that part of Al-Mujtahid’s early profits were used to pay the salaries of Syria’s Interior Ministry—a body excluded from the Qatari-Saudi salary grant that supports the rest of the public sector.
The Ministry of Communications, in a March request obtained by Daraj, quietly asked the Central Bank of Syria for permission to access funds held in accounts linked to Ibrahim’s group. The document, not released to the public, shows that bureaucracy and asset freezes continue to hinder financial fluidity.
Repeated attempts by Daraj to contact Al-Mujtahid Technical Company went unanswered. A deputy minister of communications also declined to comment, citing current restrictions on media engagement.
What Comes Next?
With Assad gone, but many of his economic structures intact, Syria’s new rulers face a difficult choice: reform or replicate. The reappearance of controversial businessmen like Mohammad Hamsho and Fadi Saqr in post-Assad Damascus signals that economic reform may be limited. Meanwhile, the Central Bank has yet to reveal the fate of frozen assets belonging to regime-linked companies, nor has it initiated formal accountability measures.
In the absence of transparency and decisive action, the telecom sector—like much of Syria’s war economy—risks remaining a fiefdom of recycled elites. And so the question remains: will Syria’s telecommunications future be shaped by justice and reform, or by quiet continuity in the shadows of a fallen regime?
This article was translated and edited by The Syrian Observer. The Syrian Observer has not verified the content of this story. Responsibility for the information and views set out in this article lies entirely with the author.
