Middle Eastern wars rarely end with a cease-fire. They usually end with invoices. As of January 2026, what is unfolding in Syria fits this old pattern perfectly. While public debate continues to revolve around whether the United States is “withdrawing” from Syria, the real story lies elsewhere: Washington is not leaving the field. It is changing the game.
Under U.S. President Donald Trump’s second-term approach, Syria is no longer viewed primarily as a military theater but as an arena of economic leverage. The guiding instinct is simple and unmistakable: keep American soldiers off the ground, but ensure American companies win on the ground.
This change is quietly reshaping every major file in Syria.
For years, the so-called Syrian Democratic Forces, or in other words, the YPG terrorist organization, served as Washington’s primary local partner. That phase is now drawing to a close. The transfer of Daesh detainees from Syria to Iraq is not a technical detail. It is a strategic signal that the “camps and prisons” burden is being offloaded because the YPG is no longer expected to carry it.
At the same time, the United States has reopened a working channel with Damascus. Contrary to the rhetoric of total withdrawal, Washington appears to be reposturing, not exiting. Sanctions relief discussions, indirect security coordination and diplomatic openings suggest that Damascus is being reframed as a more manageable interlocutor than fragmented nonstate actors.
In short, the YPG is losing political ground, while the Syrian state, however imperfect, is being reinserted into the equation.
Syria has once again become one of the most valuable cards in U.S.-Türkiye relations. For Ankara, the erosion or integration of YPG structures into Damascus directly touches its core security priority: shrinking the operational and legitimacy space of PKK-linked entities.
Leader-level contacts between Trump and President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan have explicitly carried Syria, alongside Iran and Gaza, onto the top diplomatic channel. What is emerging is not a full alignment, but a functional overlap of interests.
Under American mediation, Syria-Israel security contacts have reportedly resumed, including a coordination mechanism initiated in Paris. Damascus, in turn, is testing whether diplomatic engagement can translate into Israeli pullbacks from certain postwar control zones.
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s objectives, as reflected in U.S. policy circles, are limited but firm: prevent Iran’s re-entrenchment, reduce threats along the southern frontier, and maintain a basic conflict-management channel with Damascus. It is not peace, it is risk containment.
The al-Sharaa administration is trying to find a balance between Washington, Ankara and Jerusalem with narrow margins. Its strategy rests on three pillars: consolidating internal control, bargaining for sanctions relief for reconstruction and legitimacy, and maintaining controlled tension with Israel while keeping mediation lines open. Russia and Iran lack the resources to rebuild Syria. China remains cautious. Europe will not move without U.S. approval. That leaves Damascus with one viable path: an American-approved, Türkiye-enabled, Gulf-financed reconstruction model.
What distinguishes Trump’s Syria policy from previous approaches is not ideology but method. This is not regime change, democratization or long-term occupation. It is outsourced stabilization.
Energy fields in eastern Syria are no longer framed as military assets but as commercial ones. Reconstruction, estimated by U.S. institutions at $30-400 billion, is seen as a market Washington does not want to lose to China, Russia or Iran, yet without committing U.S. public funds.
The solution? Contracts instead of boots.
In this model, Türkiye becomes indispensable. Logistics, construction capacity, proximity and field experience make Ankara the natural gateway into Syria. The formula circulating in U.S. policy circles is tellingly simple: American companies hold the contracts, Turkish firms execute on the ground and Gulf capitals finance the projects.
What emerges is not a zero-sum contest, but a managed division of burdens: The U.S. designs the financial and contractual architecture, Türkiye handles logistics, construction and security, and Damascus gains sovereignty optics, revenue and legitimacy.
It is an uneasy balance, but one that minimizes risk for Washington.
Trump’s Syria policy is not idealistic, not democracy-driven and not soldier-centered. It is company-centered, regionally outsourced and risk-averse. And in that design, Türkiye is no longer a side player; it is a key pillar. The era of military headlines is giving way to an era of signatures, tenders and contracts. Fewer troops, fewer speeches, but more deals. History shows that empires rarely leave quietly. They simply change the way they collect.
