Trump’s Syria gamble: Pragmatism meets self-inflicted chaos

In a surprising twist of realpolitik, U.S. President Donald Trump has emerged as a pragmatist in Syria policy—scrapping long-standing sanctions and embracing a controversial former jihadist leader as Syria’s new face of stability. Yet, beneath this veneer of strategic realism lies a self-inflicted wound: Trump’s dismantling of the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), which has crippled humanitarian aid and threatens to unravel any fragile gains in Syria’s post-Assad transition. This paradox—Trump as both Syria’s potential savior and saboteur—frames a cautionary tale of conflicting policies colliding in one of the world’s most volatile hotspots, according to Foreign Policy.

Since the unexpected toppling of Bashar al-Assad’s Russian-backed regime in late 2024 by radical Islamist rebels led by Ahmed al-Sharaa, Syria’s trajectory has been uncertain and precarious. Al-Sharaa, a former al Qaeda commander, embodies the complexities of the new Syria: feared by many but arguably the only viable power broker able to hold the country together. Traditional Western policy dictated continued sanctions to contain extremists and pressure Damascus. Yet, Trump’s May 2025 decision to lift many sanctions, influenced by Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman’s personal plea, marked a sharp departure from this approach, signaling a willingness to prioritize stability and economic recovery over ideological purity.

This pivot quickly accelerated with the appointment of Thomas Barrack—Trump’s real estate ally—as ambassador to Ankara, tasked with normalizing Syrian-American relations. Under their stewardship, the U.S. took unprecedented steps, including removing terrorist designations on Sharaa’s group, highlighting a pragmatic acceptance that the new Islamist-led government may be Syria’s best hope for peace and reconstruction. The policy aims to create the conditions necessary for refugee return, infrastructure rebuilding, counterterrorism cooperation, and eventual U.S. military disengagement.

However, the optimistic veneer conceals a devastating contradiction. While the Trump administration pursues rapprochement, it simultaneously gutted USAID—America’s main foreign aid apparatus—just as Syria’s humanitarian crisis reached unprecedented depths. USAID had been a cornerstone of Syria’s aid landscape, delivering billions in assistance since 2012, sustaining millions through food, health, water, and governance programs that helped stave off total societal collapse. Trump’s swift destruction of USAID, fueled more by domestic political theatrics and distrust of “radical left lunatics” than by coherent strategy, precipitated a massive aid withdrawal.

The consequences are dire: aid groups like Mercy Corps and Save the Children have had to scale back or abandon vital services, leaving hundreds of thousands vulnerable to malnutrition, disease, and water insecurity. The collapse of civil society initiatives and independent media further deepens Syria’s political toxicity. The U.N. warns that millions face food insecurity amid the worst drought in six decades, and millions of refugees remain displaced with little hope of returning to a functioning state.

Trump’s Syria policy thus splits between two irreconcilable impulses—sanctions relief and diplomatic engagement on one side, and catastrophic aid cuts on the other. The latter risks eroding the fragile social fabric and fueling renewed cycles of violence and instability, undermining the very stability his sanctions rollback seeks to nurture. In a country fractured by war and armed factions, this internal contradiction could prove fatal.

Ultimately, Trump’s legacy in Syria hinges on whether his pragmatic overtures to the new Islamist leadership can outlast the self-inflicted humanitarian vacuum created by the destruction of USAID. Will he be remembered as the president who gave Syria a chance at recovery, or as the one whose reckless aid cuts sabotaged its fragile post-Assad transition? The answer remains uncertain, but Syria’s suffering—and the stakes for regional stability—could not be higher.

By Vugar Khalilov