U.S. envoy Tom Barrack’s recent musings about a possible “Sham Province” have ignited a storm of debate across the Middle East. In a provocative statement, Barrack warned that Lebanon risked “going back to Bilad al-Sham” – the historic designation for Greater Syria encompassing modern Syria, Lebanon, Palestine, and Jordan – unless it addressed internal issues like Hezbollah’s arms and reconciled with Damascus. The idea of effectively reincorporating these Levantine countries under a new regional framework centred on Damascus taps into deep historical currents. It also raises pressing questions: Is this notion a viable strategic blueprint for a post-conflict Middle East, or merely the romantic revival of an imperial-era dream? To answer that, one must explore the historical context of Bilad al-Sham, examine how colonial machinations carved it into modern states, and weigh the wary reactions of regional players to Barrack’s proposal.
Bilad al-Sham: A Historical Panorama
In classical and Islamic antiquity, Bilad al-Sham was not just a poetic term but an administrative reality. The Arabic name translates roughly to “the northern land,” reflecting its position to the north of the Arabian heartland. Under the early Caliphates, Bilad al-Sham referred to a vast province that roughly corresponded to the Roman Syria-Palestina and Byzantine Diocese of the East, conquered by Arab-Muslim armies in the 7th century. During the Umayyad Caliphate (661–750), with Damascus as the imperial capital, Bilad al-Sham was the metropolitan core of an expanding Islamic empire. The Umayyads divided the region into several ajnad (military districts) – Damascus, Homs, Jordan, Palestine, and later Qinnasrin in the north – as they consolidated their rule. This was a golden age for Damascus; the city not only governed the Levant but wielded influence from Iran to Iberia, embedding the idea that Greater Syria was a natural unit of governance and culture.Under the Abbasid Caliphate (750–1258), the political center shifted to Baghdad, but Bilad al-Sham remained an important, if often contested, region. Abbasid control over Syria weakened by the 10th century, fragmenting the territory among local dynasties and foreign invaders. Still, in the medieval imagination the Levant was one geographic-cultural space: a land of prophets and trade, where Arabic language and Islamic civilization knit communities from Aleppo to Jerusalem. The Crusades and subsequent Ayyubid reconquests (under Saladin) reinforced this unity in struggle, and by the late 13th century the Mamluk Sultanate (1260–1516) firmly reconstituted Bilad al-Sham as part of its domain. The Mamluks, ruling from Cairo, governed Syria through provincial governors in cities like Damascus, Aleppo, and Tripoli, treating al-Sham as the essential partner to Egypt. Notably, when the Mamluks defeated the Mongols and Crusaders, they touted themselves as liberators of Sham, underscoring the land’s significance to Muslim rulers.
The arrival of the Ottoman Empire in 1516 inaugurated another chapter. Ottoman administrators did not use “Bilad al-Sham” officially, yet they acknowledged the Levant’s coherence by grouping its areas into a handful of provinces. By the 19th century, Ottoman Syria was organized into the vilayets (provinces) of Damascus, Aleppo, and Beirut, alongside the special districts of Jerusalem and Mount Lebanonen. Aleppo’s province included much of northern Syria (and what is now southern Turkey’s border areas), Damascus’s province covered southern Syria and Transjordan, and Beirut’s jurisdiction extended over today’s Lebanon and the Syrian coast down to Palestine. This meant that on the eve of World War I, a traveler could theoretically traverse from the mountains of Anatolia through Homs to the Galilee under one sovereign – the Sultan – even if divided into sub-units. In fact, the very term “Syria” (Suriyya) was revived in Arabic around the 19th century to denote the whole of Bilad al-Sham, gradually replacing the older term in common usage. This era also saw the stirrings of Arab proto-nationalism: thinkers in Beirut and Damascus began to imagine “Suriye al-Kubra” (Greater Syria) as a modern national homeland, leveraging pride in the region’s illustrious past.
Thus, for well over a thousand years – from Roman governors to Ottoman pashas – the lands of modern Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, Palestine/Israel (and historically parts of southern Turkey) were often linked under one umbrella. Damascus frequently shone as a political or spiritual center. These memories linger. When Barrack and others invoke Bilad al-Sham, they summon a vision of Levantine unity that harkens back to the Umayyads and Ottomans. It is a vision steeped in history, one that stirs nostalgia for an era before hard borders, when a Damascene or Jerusalemite could view the Fertile Crescent as one integrated civilizational domain.
From Sykes-Picot to States: How the Levant Was Divided
If the notion of Greater Syria has deep roots, so too do the forces that pulled it apart. The early 20th century dealt fatal blows to the old regional cohesion. During World War I, Britain and France secretly negotiated the 1916 Sykes–Picot Agreement, penciling lines across the Levantine map. This infamous colonial pact – often derided as “the West’s pencil-sketched borders” – carved Bilad al-Sham into zones of influence: the French were allotted the northern Levant (Syria and later Lebanon), while the British took the south (Palestine and Mesopotamia). With the Ottoman Empire’s defeat, these arrangements became reality. By 1920, the victors obtained League of Nations mandates formalizing their control. Greater Syria was to be dismembered just as its people were yearning for post-Ottoman freedom.
Arab nationalists, however, didn’t passively accept this fate. In March 1920, representatives in Damascus proclaimed the Arab Kingdom of Syria – an independent state encompassing most of Bilad al-Sham (including Palestine) under Emir Faisal ibn Hussein. This bold bid for a unified Levantine kingdom was short-lived. France, unwilling to relinquish its claim, dispatched troops and defeated the Syrians at the Battle of Maysalun in July 1920. King Faisal’s fledgling Greater Syria collapsed almost as soon as it began. Thereafter, French General Henri Gouraud imposed an elaborate divide-and-rule system over the Levant. By 1920–21, the French Mandate carved out five statelets from Syria’s body: the States of Damascus and Aleppo, the Alawite State on the coast, Jabal Druze in the south, and Greater Lebanon on the Mediterranean – the latter enlarged to include Beirut and the Biqaa Valley, forming today’s Lebanon. (A sixth district, Alexandretta in the northwest, would later be ceded to Turkey in 1939, becoming Hatay Province.) Meanwhile, Britain held separate mandates over Palestine (which included present-day Israel and the Palestinian territories) and Transjordan, east of the River Jordan. By the mid-1920s, the geographic unity of Bilad al-Sham had been broken into four colonial units: French-ruled Syria and Lebanon, and British-ruled Palestine and Transjordan.
Over the ensuing decades, these units evolved into the independent countries we know now. The French reunified Damascus and Aleppo (plus other regions) in 1925 after local rebellions, eventually granting nominal independence to a consolidated Syrian Republic by 1946. Lebanon, with its larger Christian population, was treated separately and attained independence in 1943. Britain, for its part, granted independence to Transjordan (the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan) in 1946, while the Palestine mandate ended in the partition and war of 1948, leading to the creation of Israel and the displacement of Palestinians (the West Bank and Gaza coming under Jordanian and Egyptian control, respectively, until 1967). By the mid-20th century, Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, and Israel/Palestine had solidified as distinct states, each jealously guarding its sovereignty. The old concept of Greater Syria survived mostly in political rhetoric and nostalgia.
Indeed, throughout this period some voices continued to call for Levantine unity. The Syrian Social Nationalist Party (SSNP), founded in 1932 by Antoun Saadeh, explicitly advocated a “Natural Syria” encompassing all of Bilad al-Sham (and ambitiously even beyond). Pan-Arabists like Egypt’s Gamal Abdel Nasser also flirted with merging Arab states – notably the United Arab Republic union of Egypt and Syria (1958–1961), which briefly resurrected the idea of a supra-state erasing colonial borders. But these experiments failed; particular identities and power structures proved stronger. By the 21st century, the borders drawn by Sykes-Picot and its kin – however arbitrary – had been cemented by a century of separate statehood, different flags, and divergent political paths.
This historical detour matters because Barrack’s proposition essentially imagines undoing (at least partially) the legacy of Sykes-Picot. When he suggests folding Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, and Palestine back into one orbit with Damascus at the center, it strikes at the heart of the post-WWI order. It is a call to reverse the colonial carve-up and perhaps restore something of the unity that prevailed under the Caliphates and Ottomans. Yet to many, those colonial borders have become sacrosanct or at least irreversible – their removal would be as disruptive as their imposition a century ago. This tension between the old unitary ideal and the modern state system is what makes the new Bilad al-Sham debate so charged.
Barrack’s Proposal and Regional Reactions
Tom Barrack’s remarks did not emerge in a vacuum. He is President Donald Trump’s handpicked diplomat – serving as U.S. Ambassador to Turkey and special envoy for Syria and Lebanon – and has been at the forefront of Washington’s recalibrated Middle East policy. His suggestion of a “Sham Province” came amid U.S.-brokered efforts to stabilize a war-torn Syria and address Lebanon’s crises. Speaking to the press, Barrack painted a dire scenario for Lebanon: “You have Israel on one side, Iran on the other, and now Syria is reemerging strongly and rapidly. If Lebanon doesn’t act, it will return to being part of ‘Bilad al-Sham’ again.”. He specifically warned that unless Beirut decisively disarms Hezbollah and realigns with the new order in Damascus, it could “fall under the control of regional powers” and lose its sovereignty. In plainer terms, Barrack hinted that Lebanon might be swallowed back into Greater Syria’s fold – a stunning statement to make publicly.
The backlash was immediate. In Lebanon, a country highly sensitive about its independence, media and politicians balked. Many interpreted Barrack’s words as a thinly veiled threat that Syria (fresh off a resurgence) might once again dominate or even annex Lebanese territory. Memories run deep: from 1976 to 2005, Syria maintained a heavy-handed military presence in Lebanon, during which thousands of Lebanese were detained or disappeared by Syrian forces. That legacy of occupation means any hint of “Greater Syria” raises specters of lost sovereignty. Unsurprisingly, Beirut officials scrambled to seek clarification. Lebanese Prime Minister Nawaf Salam met with Barrack, and the U.S. envoy quickly walked back his comment, insisting he misspoke. “My comments yesterday praised Syria’s impressive strides, not a threat to Lebanon,” Barrack posted in a defensive clarification on social media. He lauded how fast Syria was moving to rebuild – aided by the lifting of U.S. sanctions – and added: “I can assure that Syria’s leaders only want coexistence and mutual prosperity with Lebanon, and the US is committed to supporting that relationship between two equal and sovereign neighbors.”. In other words, Washington was not openly advocating the disappearance of the Lebanese state.
Damascus, for its part, trod carefully in response – aware that overt ambition could backfire. The Syrian government (now led by interim President Ahmad al-Sharaa after the ouster of Bashar al-Assad) officially “moved to quash speculation” that it had any designs on Lebanese territory. A Syrian Information Ministry official stated that resolving the issue of Syrian detainees in Lebanon was a priority, but “swiftly through official channels between the two countries”, pointedly affirming a bilateral, state-to-state approach. And despite heated rumors in Beirut that Syria might annex border areas like the northern city of Tripoli – rumors fueled by hardline pro-Damascus figures – Damascus denied any such intentions. In public, Syrian officials echoed Barrack’s revised tone: they spoke of cooperation, not coercion. This indicates that while Syria surely welcomes greater influence in its neighborhood after years of isolation, it understands that openly advocating a Bilad al-Sham revival could unite opponents against it. Far better to let an American envoy float the idea and watch the reactions.
Perhaps the most striking reactions came from Israel and Turkey – two regional heavyweights with much at stake in Syria’s future, yet very different perspectives. For Israel, the prospect of a resurgent Syrian-led bloc that might include Lebanon and potentially the Palestinian territories is viewed with trepidation. Barrack’s overall approach to Syria (and his Bilad al-Sham comment by extension) has not sat well with Tel Aviv. He has been sharply critical of Israel’s military forays into Syria, such as recent airstrikes Israel launched ostensibly to protect Syrian Druze during sectarian clashes. Barrack publicly complained these strikes were “poorly timed” and complicated stabilization efforts. In response, Israel’s Defense Minister Israel Katz rebuked Barrack, saying the ambassador “isn’t aware of the facts” on the ground. The Israeli security establishment does not share Barrack’s rosy view of working with Syria’s new authorities or integrating groups like HTS (Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham). The notion of Turkish or Syrian troops stationed near Israel’s Golan frontier as part of a “joint defense pact” has already prompted Israeli airstrikes on Syrian bases visited by Turkish officers. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu warned that Turkish bases in Syria would be a “danger to Israel”. All this underscores that Israel prefers the status quo of a fractured Levant to any consolidated “Sham” entity that could present a united front or serve as a platform for hostile forces (even if those forces are Sunni Islamists opposed to Iran, Israel remains skeptical they would be benign). From Israel’s vantage, Barrack’s talk of regional frameworks smells like strategic overstretch – an experiment that could backfire by empowering unpredictable actors on its border.
For Turkey, the calculation differs. President Erdogan’s government has a more favorable view of a reconstituted Syria under friendly leadership, and by extension might be open to new regional alignments – so long as they serve Turkish interests. Notably, Barrack is seen as “pro-Turkish” and his posture “aligns closely with Turkish sensitivities.” He and Trump have courted Ankara as a partner in rebuilding Syria. Turkey played a pivotal role in backing the Syrian rebel coalition (including HTS) that ousted Assad in late 2024. In the short term, Ankara wants Syria to stabilize and recentralize, hoping millions of Syrian refugees in Turkey might then return home. Turkish officials have publicly welcomed Syria’s new government and even discussed deploying Turkish forces in Syria in coordination with Damascus. For Turkey, a friendly “Sham Province” could be advantageous: it would cement Turkey’s influence over the Levant, flush out Kurdish separatist enclaves, and remove the Iranian presence that Ankara opposed. Unsurprisingly, Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan tried to reassure neighbors that Turkey has “no intention of conflict in Syria, not only with Israel but with any country in the region,” even as Turkey establishes a military training presence on Syrian soil. Still, there are red lines. Any hint that a revived Greater Syria might claim Hatay (the formerly Syrian region now in Turkey) would enrage Ankara – though Barrack’s concept does not explicitly include Turkish territory, the historical Bilad al-Sham does include parts of modern Turkey (e.g. Alexandretta/Hatay and even areas of Gaziantep, Diyarbakir). Given Erdogan’s own penchant for Ottoman nostalgia, Turkey might sympathize with undoing some colonial borders – but certainly not at Turkey’s expense. So while Turkey is supportive of Syria’s resurgence and perhaps a looser Levantine bloc, it would oppose anything that undermines Turkish sovereignty or allows unfettered Iranian or extremist threats to fester. In sum, Turkey’s reaction to Barrack’s “Sham” idea is guardedly positive: they see echoes of their own ambitions in it (a region led by Sunni powers and excluding Western diktat), yet they remain cautious to ensure any new order respects Turkey’s security (especially regarding the Kurds and territorial integrity).
Within Lebanon and Syria themselves, reactions split along familiar fault lines. In Lebanon, aside from the general public outcry, factions interpreted Barrack’s message according to their interests. Anti-Hezbollah figures and some technocrats likely saw it as heavy-handed U.S. pressure to finally tackle the Hezbollah “state-within-a-state” problem – essentially “disarm, or risk being subsumed by Syria again.” Indeed, Washington has made clear that neither it nor Israel will fully support Lebanon’s recovery (or cease Israeli overflights) until Hezbollah’s military wing is neutralized. Barrack has been spearheading a plan for Hezbollah’s disarmament in exchange for economic aid to Lebanon. Some in Beirut’s political class cautiously welcomed the urgency – the Lebanese government even sent a proposal outlining steps to extend state control over all weapons (implicitly, Hezbollah’s) and pressing Israel to withdraw from occupied border areas as part of a broader truce. Pro-sovereignty voices in Lebanon took Barrack’s warning as validation of their fear that Hezbollah’s behavior (dragging Lebanon into conflicts, inviting sanctions and war) could indeed cost the country its independence. On the other hand, Hezbollah and its allies almost certainly viewed Barrack’s Greater Syria talk as a dire threat. Here was an American envoy essentially saying: get rid of Hezbollah’s arms or cease to exist as a separate nation. For the Iran-backed Shiite militia-cum-party, which positions itself as Lebanon’s defender, this sounded like a conspiracy to eradicate them and fold Lebanon into a new U.S./Turkish-dominated axis. Hezbollah officials publicly were muted (perhaps not to give credence to the idea), but one can imagine their alarm. As a reality check, Hezbollah’s late leader Hassan Nasrallah has previously scoffed at suggestions of disarmament, and any attempt to force it could trigger conflict. Even Barrack acknowledged that “a full-scale disarmament of Hezbollah could risk igniting a civil war.” Thus, Hezbollah is poised to resist both the disarmament demand and any wider project that diminishes Iran’s foothold in the Levant. The group likely sees the “Bilad al-Sham plan” as an American-Turkish scheme to uproot Iran’s influence (which, truth be told, it is), and they would work to subvert it behind the scenes.
Within Syria, beyond the official line, various factions have their own views. The Syrian opposition groups that fought Assad – many of whom are now part of the new power structure – have long invoked al-Sham in their rhetoric. (HTS itself stands for “Liberation of the Levant.”) For them, talk of an expanded Sham province could align with their ideological vision of an Islamist-tinged unity among Levantine Muslims. However, having just barely formed a transitional government from the rubble of civil war, their priority is consolidating control over Syria proper. If anything, President al-Sharaa and his HTS-linked cadres might relish the notion of restoring Syria’s historic regional leadership, but they must also be pragmatic. They need to rebuild cities, integrate militias, and gain international legitimacy – overreach could jeopardize that. Interestingly, President al-Sharaa has been compared by Barrack to “George Washington”, a founding father leading Syria’s rebirth. Such flattery suggests the U.S. sees him as a unifier. Under his watch, Syria has struck deals to bring rival factions in – for example, a U.S.-brokered accord in March 2025 between the Damascus authorities and the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) to merge the latter into the national army. The implementation is tricky – disagreements persist on whether the SDF will retain autonomy as a distinct unit or be absorbed wholesale – but the process highlights Syria’s focus on internal integration first. Only once Syria is truly pacified and whole can it contemplate larger unions. As for the Syrian Kurds, they remain wary of any strong Arab nationalist project that could erase their autonomy. They have explicitly pushed for a federal system in post-war Syria. A grand Bilad al-Sham scheme might sound to them like a unitary Arab state – something Kurdish leaders would resist without guarantees for cultural and political rights. Kurds have fought ISIS and governed their region effectively; they will not eagerly dissolve into a Damascus-centric order unless their status is protected. Barrack has assured the SDF of a “respectful” integration and emphasized the U.S. “wants to make sure [the Kurds] have an opportunity to integrate… in a respectful way.”. Even so, trust is fragile. In short, inside Syria the Sham idea might inspire pride among Arab factions and concern among Kurds and other minorities.
Finally, we should consider the stance of the Palestinians and Jordanians, since they too are mentioned as pieces of the proposed ‘province.’ The Palestinian issue is exceedingly delicate. Any framework that involves Palestine’s future invariably entangles Israel. The idea of folding the Palestinian territories (or a future Palestinian state) into a Greater Syria raises immediate questions: What happens to Palestinian aspirations for independent statehood? Would this be a means to solve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict or to sideline it? There is historical precedent for talk of “unity”: King Abdullah I of Jordan once envisioned a Greater Syria under his crown (including Palestine), and some early Zionists even feared an Arab federation thwarting a Jewish state. In today’s context, Palestinian leaders are unlikely to embrace a plan that subsumes them under Syrian leadership – unless it clearly leads to liberation from occupation and equal rights, which sounds far-fetched. The Palestinian Authority in Ramallah remains focused on two states (Palestine alongside Israel). The more radical Hamas in Gaza might rhetorically cheer a powerful Damascus that could support their cause against Israel, but they too are wary of forfeiting Palestinian decision-making to any Arab capital. Meanwhile, Jordan almost certainly wants no part of a merger. The Hashemite monarchy has survived by carefully balancing great power patronage and domestic stability; relinquishing sovereignty or being absorbed into a larger entity would spell the end of Hashemite rule. Jordan’s King and political class remember that Syria’s Baathists historically viewed Jordan as part of Southern Syria, a notion they vehemently reject. At most, Jordan could get behind cooperative regional schemes (like economic pacts or an entente with Syria and Iraq to boost trade). But politically joining a Damascus-led bloc would be anathema in Amman. Not to mention, Jordan harbors a large Palestinian population whose status could become contentious in any “Greater Syria” scenario. Thus, we can infer Jordan’s reaction as polite but firm refusal – a commitment to good neighborly ties with Syria, but no erasure of the border.
Geopolitical Feasibility: Can Greater Syria Rise Again?
Is Barrack’s Bilad al-Sham proposal a feasible geopolitical strategy, or a fantastical throwback? The answer lies in weighing the considerable obstacles against the potential motivations. On paper, the notion of consolidating several Levantine entities into one aligned unit has some strategic logic. Advocates might argue that artificial divisions have led to chronic conflict, weak states, and openings for extremism – so a new regional framework could pool resources, resolve border disputes, and create a stronger bloc to ensure security and development. In theory, a unified or confederated Sham could, for example, coordinate the return of refugees, share water resources, and present a common front in negotiations on the Palestinian question. Barrack’s own framing hints at this: “the future belongs to solutions forged by the region itself,” he said, suggesting that Western-imposed boundaries (and presumably, Western attempts at nation-building) have failed. There is also an undercurrent of realpolitik: the U.S. under Trump appears to be pivoting away from regime-change policies and instead endorsing “homegrown” power structures, even if they include former Islamist rebels like HTS. By empowering a Damascus-centered order (friendly to Washington and Ankara), the U.S. likely aims to expel Iranian influence (Hezbollah’s patron) and stabilize the region with minimal American military footprint. A broader Sham union could also theoretically absorb the Palestinian issue into a regional context, perhaps easing Israel’s security fears if Syria-Jordan guarantee a pacified Palestine – though conversely, Israel might fear the opposite (a larger adversary).
However, the practical hurdles to realizing a “Sham Province” are monumental. First and foremost, national identities and sovereignties are much stronger today than in the era of Faisal or Antoun Saadeh. Lebanese, for all their internecine divides, overwhelmingly cherish the idea of Lebanon as a distinct nation – one with a unique sectarian power-sharing system and historical borders. The same goes for Jordanians; a century of Hashemite statehood has solidified a Jordanian national consciousness. Even many Syrians, proud as they are of their historical leadership in Bilad al-Sham, do not necessarily want to inherit the Palestinian-Israeli conflict or Lebanon’s economic collapse as part of a single polity. The consent of the governed would be required to merge or confederate these countries, and it’s hard to imagine masses in Amman, Beirut, or Jerusalem voting to dissolve their states into a Damascene super-state. There is also the matter of international law and recognition. The UN system is built on respecting existing state borders (notwithstanding occasional separations like South Sudan or intended mergers like the short-lived UAR). To redraw borders or merge states, those states themselves must agree and treaties must be signed; any forcible change would be seen as aggression. Thus, unless all parties enthusiastically sign up – an unlikely scenario – a Greater Syria project would face diplomatic isolation or even military resistance.
Secondly, the regional balance of power presents constraints. For Israel and the U.S. (beyond the Trump team), a large hostile entity in the Levant is a nightmare scenario reminiscent of Nasser’s pan-Arab nationalism that once threatened Western interests. Barrack’s personal views aside, there are segments in Washington and certainly in Jerusalem that would prefer Syria remain contained rather than morph into a bigger power. If Israel feels cornered by a Sham bloc, it could take destabilizing actions to prevent it – as evidenced by Israeli airstrikes the moment Turkish or Syrian forces do something unexpected near its border. While Barrack speaks of eventually normalizing Syria-Israel relations, he admits it will be like “unwrapping an onion, slowly”, if it happens at all. This implies any grand regional integration would also be slow and stepwise at best, giving opponents ample time to obstruct it. Turkey, though amenable now to Syria’s recovery, would also closely watch any union that doesn’t prioritize Turkish interests. Were a Greater Syria to become too independent of Ankara or challenge Turkey (for example, championing pan-Arab causes that conflict with Turkey), the Turkish stance could shift from supportive to adversarial.
Furthermore, internal sectarian and political divisions cannot be ignored. A “Bilad al-Sham” union would encompass Sunnis, Shi’a, Alawites, Christians, Druze, Kurds, Jews (in Israel/Palestine), and more – a tapestry even more complex than Iraq’s. Under what form of governance would they all coexist? Would there be a federal structure acknowledging diversity (as Kurds would insist), or a strong centralized rule from Damascus? The latter would smack of past hegemonies and likely provoke resistance or secession (e.g. Lebanese Christian fears of losing autonomy, Kurdish refusals, etc.). The former – a loose federation – might in reality just perpetuate the borders in another guise, raising the question of what is truly gained. Indeed, one could argue that rather than rearranging borders, it may be more realistic to pursue inter-state cooperation agreements: for instance, a Levantine economic common market, joint infrastructure projects, or security pacts against terrorism. These could achieve many benefits of unity without the explosive step of erasing nations. Barrack’s scenario might be interpreted less as a literal merger and more as a strategic alignment where Damascus-friendly governments in Beirut, Amman, and even Gaza work in concert. That still raises eyebrows, but falls short of full-blown political union.
The role of the United States in this also merits scrutiny. Is the U.S. prepared to underwrite a redrawn Levant? It seems unlikely – Washington has its hands full with global issues and is wary of new entanglements. Barrack himself has signaled an end to American-led “nation-building” adventures. Instead, he portrays the U.S. role as a facilitator supporting regional solutions. This hints that the “Sham Province” concept may be more of a pressure tactic or a thought experiment than a concrete policy. By invoking the specter of Greater Syria, Barrack might have sought to jolt Lebanese leaders into action (on reforms and Hezbollah) through fear: “Align with our plan, or you might be gobbled up by Syria (and by extension, Turkey).” If so, the utility of the concept is psychological and political, not a literal blueprint being drawn in Washington or Damascus. In fact, after the backlash, American officials would likely be cautious to publicly float such an idea again, at least in the near term.
One must also consider that calls for reviving old empires or provinces often overestimate the power of nostalgia and underestimate practical needs. It is telling that even ardent pan-Arab nationalists in the mid-20th century – at a time when colonialism had just ended and unity sentiments were high – failed to hold merged states together. The UAR (Egypt-Syria) lasted 3 years. Efforts to include Iraq or to merge Syria and Iraq in the 1960s collapsed amid distrust. Fast-forward to today: the Middle East has endured devastating wars (Iraq, Syria, etc.) and external interventions, but rather than dissolving boundaries, those crises have in some cases reinforced them (the Syria-Iraq border, once effectively erased by ISIS’s “caliphate”, has been re-established by international force). ISIS itself marketed the end of Sykes-Picot as a rallying cry – destroying border checkpoints and declaring one Islamic state – yet its brutality alienated the very populations it sought to unite, and ultimately an array of separate states (Iraq, Syria, U.S., Turkey, Iran, Russia, etc.) coordinated to squash it. This demonstrates that while the idea of erasing colonial borders can have emotional resonance, any movement to do so faces immediate contention unless it brings clear, tangible improvements and has broad legitimacy.
In the case of Barrack’s plan, what problem is it truly solving? Lebanon’s dysfunction? Syria’s insecurity? Palestinian statelessness? These are indeed pressing issues, but skeptics argue they can be addressed without redrawing the map. Lebanon’s crisis, for example, stems from corruption, sectarian politics, and Hezbollah’s militia status – none of which automatically disappear by joining a Greater Syria (in fact, such a move could incite Lebanon’s factions to new conflict). Syria’s recovery depends on reconstruction and reconciliation internally; absorbing turbulent neighbors might just import new problems. Palestine’s liberation or Israeli acceptance will not magically occur because Damascus is now “in charge” – if anything, Israel would fight harder against a larger adversary claiming mandate over Palestine. Thus, the feasibility question often comes down to risk vs reward. The risks – war with Israel, internal strife, international isolation – are high. The rewards are uncertain and long-term at best.
Strategic Vision or Romanticized Nostalgia?
Ultimately, the Bilad al-Sham debate forces us to distinguish between strategic vision and romantic nostalgia. There is no doubt a romantic element in Barrack’s language. He invokes Syria’s “Umayyad heritage”, drawing parallels between modern Syrian leaders and legendary figures of nation-founding. By likening President al-Sharaa to George Washington and praising the indigenous achievements of the region, he taps into a narrative of restored glory – as if a once-great Levant is awakening after a long period of division and foreign domination. This is powerful imagery, and it appeals to many in the Middle East tired of foreign meddling and endless conflicts. The notion that the Levant could be whole again – culturally vibrant, economically integrated, politically sovereign – carries an almost utopian allure, especially against the grim backdrop of recent wars. In that sense, imperial nostalgia is a driving force: whether it’s nostalgia for the cosmopolitan grandeur of Ottoman Damascus, the unity of Saladin’s realm, or even an Islamic prophecy about al-Sham as a blessed land, these ideas resonate on a deep emotive level (as evidenced by popular references to historic Bilad al-Sham in speeches, songs, and even jihadist propaganda).
However, nostalgia alone does not make a blueprint. Critics would argue that Barrack’s floated plan is at best, lacking concrete pathways. The ambassador himself often hedges – he issues bold warnings, then issues clarifications. Few believe that Washington has officially adopted a policy to merge four countries; rather, it appears to be a personal conception Barrack is proselytizing, in line with a broader Trump-era approach of empowering regional actors (especially Turkey) to sort out the mess. It is telling that even within the U.S. foreign policy establishment, there is likely skepticism. Barrack operates somewhat outside traditional channels (as a businessman-turned-envoy with direct line to Trump). Career diplomats might see his pronouncements as “loose” talk – intriguing but not fully thought through.
From a strategic standpoint, one could interpret the Sham Province concept not literally, but functionally: i.e., the U.S. and allies (like Turkey) envision Syria regaining enough strength to act as a regional stabilizer – bringing Lebanon to heel (vis-à-vis Hezbollah), keeping Jordan secure, and managing the Palestinians in a way that reduces conflict – thereby relieving burdens on Israel and on direct Western involvement. If that is the hidden logic, then the focus is on Syria as a pillar of a new order, rather than on erasing all political lines. Such an outcome might be more feasible if done gradually: Syria normalizes relations with Arab states, Lebanon makes policy concessions to Syria in exchange for help (for example, on energy or refugees), Jordan coordinates security with Damascus and Ankara, and perhaps down the road a confederal arrangement or economic union emerges. This is a far cry from resurrecting the map of 1914, but it could loosely achieve what Barrack hinted at – a Levant less constrained by the post-WWI fragmentation, more aligned in interests, and led by regional powers instead of being an arena for proxy wars.
On the other side of the coin, if one sees Barrack’s idea as imperial nostalgia, it carries a cautionary note. Nostalgia can blind policymakers to on-the-ground realities. The idealized Bilad al-Sham of the past had its share of bloodshed and oppression too – it was not an unbroken idyll of harmony. Recreating it in the 21st century without addressing why those nations exist separately today could simply merge conflicts together. For instance, as separate states, the Syrian civil war and the Lebanese economic collapse were bad enough; combined, they might have been outright catastrophic. Each country has developed its own political system: Lebanon’s sectarian power-sharing, Jordan’s monarchy, Syria’s authoritarian republicanism, Palestine’s nationalist struggle – none of these easily mesh with one another. Romantic visions risk overlooking these incompatibilities.
In conclusion, The Bilad al-Sham Debate triggered by Barrack sits precariously between visionary strategy and wistful nostalgia. It represents a bold reimagining of regional order that breaks with Western-imposed paradigms, aligning with a zeitgeist that desires local solutions to local problems. Yet it also evokes an era that is long past, arguably impossible to resurrect in full. As things stand, the idea of a new Sham polity remains mostly notional. No official plans have been drafted; no regional summit has convened to discuss it. What it has done is spark conversation – forcing leaders and citizens alike to articulate what they don’t want (Lebanese shouting “we won’t be Syria’s province again!”, Israelis warning against Turkish-Syrian pacts) and what they do aspire to (Syrians yearning for respect and role, Americans seeking an exit strategy that leaves a semblance of order).
For now, strategic blueprint or not, the revival of the term Bilad al-Sham in high-level discourse is a reminder that the Middle East’s past is never truly dead. It can be resurrected in rhetoric and, under certain circumstances, even in reality. Whether Barrack’s “Sham Province” joins the long list of unfulfilled grand schemes or becomes a seed that quietly grows (in altered form) will depend on events yet to unfold. Perhaps the safest assessment is that it is both: a strategic gambit wrapped in historical nostalgia. Its immediate impact has been to pressure key players – a wake-up call to Lebanon and a trial balloon to test regional appetite for new ideas. Its longer-term impact will hinge on whether conditions in the Levant make such radical rethinking viable. In the ever-dynamic Middle East, one lesson endures: never say never. What once seemed impossible (an Islamist-led Syria partnering with the West, Gulf states aligning with Israel, etc.) can, in a few years, become reality. The Bilad al-Sham debate, quixotic as it may sound, has planted a seed of possibility – or at least posed a provocative question: Can the Levant reinvent itself by looking to its past? For now, the consensus leans toward skepticism. But as regional alignments shift and memories of the old Sham continue to beckon, the idea will likely linger in the background – a nostalgic compass that could yet guide some future blueprint for peace, or remain as a romantic dream of what might have been.
