Syria’s new parliament raises old questions

A narrow, pre-selected process

The transitional authorities have cited significant technical obstacles as the basis for not holding direct elections. No census has been conducted since 2010. Millions of Syrians remain displaced or live abroad, many lacking the documentation needed to vote. As a workaround, the government implemented a hybrid system in which around 6,000 pre-selected electors chose two-thirds of the parliament, while the president appointed the remaining third.

But the process was shaped by opaque criteria and minimal transparency. Even among the limited pool of electors, there was widespread dissatisfaction over how candidates were nominated and screened. Some were reportedly removed from the running without explanation, based on vague allegations or anonymous testimony, and denied any form of appeal.

The outcome of the vote only deepened public frustration. Candidates reported that the structure of the electoral colleges enabled male-dominated alliances that effectively excluded them. As a result, women—who make up more than half the population—won less than 3% of the seats. Representation of Christians, Alawites, and Kurds also fell far short of reflecting Syria's diverse society.

Deeper crisis

While the mechanics of the election were flawed, the deeper issue is political. Syria's post-Assad transition has yet to make space for genuine political life. Political parties remain outlawed, and there is no legal framework to regulate their formation or participation. As a result, most candidates campaigned alone, without ideological affiliation or organisational backing.

This depoliticisation doesn't just undermine the elections; it undermines the parliament's capacity to function. Without parties, lawmakers struggle to form blocs, build coalitions, draft policy agendas, or meaningfully represent their constituencies.

Recognising the constraints of conflict and transition must not come at the expense of using this critical period to lay the foundations for real democratic governance. To avoid normalising a broken process, transitional authorities must take urgent steps to revive political life.

This includes concrete measures to enable meaningful political participation—safeguarding freedom of expression and association, and ensuring real protections for those who engage. It also requires the swift drafting and adoption of a political parties law that supports pluralism and establishes clear, inclusive mechanisms for participation.

Without these steps, politics in Syria will remain the privilege of the powerful rather than a right for all. Worse, it risks entrenching the very exclusionary practices that fueled the uprising in the first place: centralised power, lack of accountability, and hollow reform.

A test of intent

To be clear, no one expects Syria to emerge overnight as a model democracy. The challenges are immense, and the wounds of war still raw. But the benchmark for progress cannot simply be whether the current elections are marginally better than those held under al-Assad. The real test is whether today's political processes are laying the groundwork for an inclusive, participatory future.

If the transitional government is serious about building a new Syria, it must treat elections not as procedural checkboxes, but as part of a broader project to restore political agency. That means designing institutions that reflect the country's diversity and enable meaningful participation—not just symbolic inclusion.

Ultimately, what's at stake isn't just the legitimacy of one election cycle, but the direction of the entire transition. If exclusion and opacity persist, Syria risks reinforcing the very conditions that led to its collapse. But if this moment is used to unlock political space, foster pluralism, and give citizens a real voice, it could mark the beginning of something far more meaningful than a "historic moment"— the slow, deliberate return of politics to Syria.