In the aftermath of the formal collapse of Bashar al-Assad’s regime, the so-called “transitional authority” emerged as an alternative to the authoritarian, centralized power that had gripped the country for decades. Yet rather than embodying a radical political rupture capable of redefining the relationship between ruler and ruled, this nascent authority has begun to exercise power through novel mechanisms grounded in a Salafist and interpretive religious discourse—one that regenerates obedience from within society itself, rather than imposing it through overt coercion. This marks a shift from power as the monopoly on violence to power as the architecture of obedience.
Michel Foucault, in his analysis of modern forms of power, argues that power in contemporary societies no longer functions solely through repression, but through the production of compliant subjectivities via mechanisms of surveillance, normalization, and discipline. Power, he contends, is not something possessed or transferred, but rather a network of relations that produces knowledge and reshapes both bodies and consciousness.
Within this framework, the Syrian case can be read as an ongoing reconstitution of the citizen’s political and social self—where individuals are not invited to participate, but commanded to submit; the ruler is not subject to scrutiny, but exalted; and the social contract is not open to negotiation, but erased in favour of an absolute discourse rooted in “constants” and “methodology.”
In contrast, Axel Honneth offers the notion of recognition as a foundational element of social justice, wherein the legitimacy of the state hinges on its capacity to affirm individuals as autonomous and equal subjects. Such mutual recognition is conspicuously absent in the Syrian transitional authority, which instead denies the legitimacy of the dissenting or different individual—recasting them as deficient beings, in need of correction and guidance.
The authority operates on the basis of a Salafist ideological structure that does not perceive society as a pluralistic entity, but as a malleable substance to be shaped along a closed hermeneutic path. Society is no longer a political actor but a field for preaching and reform.
Within this vision, the woman is rendered a “morally fragile locus” to be contained, not empowered; sectarian and religious diversity is construed not as a reflection of plurality, but as a threat to purity; and critique is no longer a legitimate political practice but a destabilising act. Thus, power is no longer institutional but disciplinary: law becomes an extension of the fatwa, and citizenship becomes conditional upon behaviour rather than anchored in rights.
The language employed by the transitional authority betrays the logic that animates it. It speaks not of “citizens,” but of “subjects.” It does not pledge “rights,” but “righteousness.” It does not promise “development,” but “legitimate empowerment.” These seemingly incidental shifts in vocabulary in fact signal a profound transformation in the very nature of the state. We are no longer confronting a political order, but a closed interpretive system that governs people as incomplete beings requiring supervision rather than partnership.
This rhetorical framework echoes what Hannah Arendt described as “the abolition of politics in favour of absolute truth,” where laws no longer arise through communal deliberation, but are derived from a higher, incontestable authority. In The Origins of Totalitarianism, Arendt warns that the true peril lies not merely in authoritarianism, but in the elevation of “truth” into an unassailable political foundation.
The transitional authority is not reconstructing the state, but reconstituting obedience as a totalising structure. The school becomes an apparatus of normalization, religious discourse a mechanism of surveillance, and civil society an extension of religious proselytism.
Everything that deviates from the authority’s narrative is excluded, vilified, and besieged—not in the name of treason, but under the banners of “deviation,” “immorality,” and “sedition.” In this configuration, politics is reduced to morality, and participation is recast as compliance.
What is being constructed in Syria today is not a project of democratic transition, but a closed social order that generates inertia rather than engagement, fear rather than aspiration. The engineering of obedience pursued by this authority seeks not merely to restrict action, but to reforge consciousness itself.
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.
