Peace on Paper, Mistrust on the Ground, Reformed Nations: Notes from Syria 🇸🇾 and Afghanistan 🇦🇫

Intro

This is part of my new stories series. Trying to decide whether I like it or not.

Let’s be honest, if someone wanted to visit Afghanistan or Syria, logistics is never the main problem: it is trust. Or, more accurately, the lack of it. If that may be true for those simply seeking a weekend getaway, imagine what that means for those in real power, attempting to keep the broken pieces from falling apart. Two conflicts across two timelines, but with the same core issues: broken promises, fear, and members of each party thinking that every person is holding a grenade with the pin out. 

Syria

Prior to 2011, Syria was like a cheap Ikea couch that nobody bothered to assemble. Just a bunch of scattered pieces floating around, simply waiting for someone to step on it. The regime was still present at the time, but it was as if an old man was holding on to his last piece of sand in a desert storm. Bashar al-Assad, after losing certain regions in the country, didn’t just have to worry about the rebels, but he was attempting to manage a patchwork of militias, foreign forces, and everyone's grudges. The Middle East is certainly a complicated region. 

Bringing theory into this equation, first, you have the information problem. Nobody truly knew who was in charge of what. The opposition group couldn’t choose whether to order a shawarma for lunch, let alone form a government. Assad was operating in survival mode, and foreign parties (Russia, Iran, the West) didn’t have their own agendas straight either. So when it came time for negotiations to occur, they had as much trust in each other as a WhatsApp message from an unknown Nigerian number. 

Damascus is now one of my favorite cities in the world. What makes it so strong, is what the people have had to endure since the 70's.

On a personal note (brief), I spent some time in Damascus last week, where a member of the HTS told me that it was difficult to survive every day. He lost many of his friends and family during the war. That’s the thing about Syria: nothing is ever clear. One minute, the rebels are fighting for freedom, and the next, they are making deals with the same people that they shot at the day before. The enemy of my enemy doesn’t always stay that way, there. Then came the security dilemma; everyone was arming up. Assad sees the rebels obtaining more weapons, and he begins to build more tanks and buy more weapons. The rebels see the regime buying more artillery and rockets, and reach out to other nations to purchase those as well. The result? Everyone was sitting on dynamite, wondering whether they were the match or the person who bought it.  

In terms of credible commitment, well, that was as solid as an airline reservation at an airport in Kinshasa. Peace deals may have been signed, but no one believed that they would actually hold. It’s as if you were to shake hands with someone who had a knife under their sleeve. Sitting at a cafe in Damascus, I asked one of the few people who spoke English, “Will you ever have peace here”? He responded, “The closer you get, the farther it goes”. 

Afghanistan

Afghanistan was a different kind of chaos — a country where centralized control was more of a myth than a reality. The mountains were more reliable than any government official. After 2001, the West tried to install democracy like it was a fresh coat of paint on a rusted-out car — shiny at first glance but falling apart under the surface. The Taliban? They didn’t disappear; they went underground, building their strength while everyone else looked the other way, like a snake just waiting for the moment to strike. "Bet," they said, "You’ll be back."

Security dilemma? Hell yes. NATO moves in with tanks and foreign troops, and the Taliban sees this as an occupation, not liberation. They re-arm. Meanwhile, locals get caught in the middle like a neighbor watching two families fight over the same patch of land. It was one long trust fall exercise — no one knew who was really there to help, and who was just looking for a reason to start a fight.

Kabul is a bustling place

A couple of months ago, I was sitting in an office in Bamian, trying to make sense of the endless back-and-forth about security. A local elder turned to me and said (translated with an Afghan local), “Afghanistan? It’s like a game of chess where the pieces change shape every 10 minutes. You think you know who’s winning, but nobody does.” The guy wasn’t wrong,  it felt like everyone I met had a different idea of what “winning” even looked like.

Credible commitment was nonexistent. Sure, a Taliban commander might say, "Let’s call it a truce." But who was going to back that up? Kabul? Half of them couldn’t leave the capital without a convoy that looked like it belonged in a movie about the apocalypse. I once had an elder tell a friend, "You offer good promises, but so do the birds, and I can’t eat a song." And if that doesn't sum up Afghanistan’s commitment issues, I don't know what does.

Information problems? People were switching sides so fast, it was like watching a political party change its logo every week. I’ve seen tribal elders, warlords, and even aid workers flip allegiances on a dime depending on who paid more. You could have a Taliban commander, a UN peacekeeper, and a warlord all in the same room drinking tea and pretending they weren’t about to stab each other in the back.

What They Share

Syria and Afghanistan aren’t just two random messes; they’re two sides of the same coin. Fragile institutions, deep distrust, and way too many guns. Syria’s structure collapsed under the weight of its own mistakes; Afghanistan never had a structure to begin with. But both places saw people acting rationally in an irrational system. They weren’t evil — just terrified, scared, or simply doing what they had to in a world where everything seemed like a game of musical chairs with the music turned off. This stuff isn't just theory. It’s human behavior. 

The people of Syria is what makes this place so special.

Whether it’s militias in Aleppo or Taliban in Kandahar, the same principles pop up. You arm yourself when you’re scared. You walk away from peace deals when you know they’re empty promises. And when you’re convinced the guy across from you is about to throw the first punch, you’re already throwing yours. So if anyone tells you, "Syria and Afghanistan are too complex to understand," they’re right,  but they're also wrong. Because beneath the chaos, the same forces keep pushing these conflicts forward: fear, mistrust, and the breakdown of anything that could’ve guaranteed peace.

My Thoughts

This one’s part of a new series I’m toying with. Less “trip report,” more “why did that guy in Damascus give me tea and then try to sell me a car battery?” You get the vibe.

Anyways, Syria and Afghanistan. Two places where trust is a luxury and peace is a punchline. One’s a country where rebels sometimes negotiate with the same guys they shelled yesterday. The other’s a place where I got told, “You offer good promises, but so do the birds, and I can’t eat a song.”

Afghanistan is a beautiful country, much like Syria as well. The people have been through so much in the past through conflict, and I only wish for the best for both of these nations

Both are masterclasses in what political science calls “information problems,” “security dilemmas,” and “credible commitment failure”, but what locals just call “Tuesday.” Whether you're talking warlords in Kandahar or HTS contacts in Damascus who ghost you mid-lunch, it all boils down to the same thing: nobody trusts anyone, and everyone’s armed.

I added some theory, a few personal bits (light on the name-dropping this time), and the usual chaotic field notes. Read it, skim it, argue with it, or just use it to impress that one guy in your IR seminar who owns three pairs of tactical cargo pants.

Enjoy.