Can Erbil Inspire a New Syria?

I visited Erbil recently at a moment when the Kurdish question in Syria was no longer theoretical but unfolding in real time.

As violence escalated, alongside the American announcement concerning the future of the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) and the continued targeting of minority communities from the Alawite coast to Druze Suweyda, one question became unavoidable: what model, if any, can sustain a stable, multicultural Syria?

During my recent visit to Iraqi Kurdistan, conversations across political, military, and civil society circles reflected a sober assessment of the moment. There was little illusion about the direction Syria might take. Concerns centered on the record of the interim leadership, its early treatment of dissent, and the implications of a possible dismantling of the SDF, particularly regarding ISIS detention camps.

Against this backdrop, Erbil offered something rare in the region: not perfection, but a functioning model.

At the Ministry of Endowments and Religious Affairs, I met Khalid Jamal Alber, director general of Christian affairs. In 2015, at the height of ISIS terror, Alber and a colleague advanced a proposal to formally recognize all religions present in the region. The Kurdistan Parliament adopted it.

Today, the Kurdistan Regional Government recognizes eight religions: Islam, Christianity, Yezidism, Judaism, Sabian-Mandaeism, Zoroastrianism, Kaka’i, and the Bahá’í Faith.

This framework did not emerge in a moment of calm. It was shaped under pressure, when communities were being erased. What stood out in Erbil was not only the policy itself, but the consistency with which it was explained. Again and again, people pointed to leadership, often referring to the long-term vision of the Barzani family. The idea that respecting difference strengthens stability is not presented there as theory, but as practice.

That same clarity appeared in discussions about the Kurdistan Workers’ Party, the PKK. Criticism was widespread and remarkably consistent. The concerns were not only ideological, but strategic. Its hostility toward Western systems, its ties to Iran, and its broader regional positioning were seen as liabilities rather than assets.

This is where the distinction with the SDF becomes important, even if it remains imperfect. The SDF is not the PKK, but the overlap in structure and ideology is widely acknowledged. In Erbil, this ambiguity is not seen as a technical detail. It is viewed as a structural vulnerability.

By contrast, Iraqi Kurdistan has invested in a different trajectory: alignment with the West, integration into global markets, attraction of foreign investment, and political pragmatism over ideological rigidity. Where Erbil builds institutions, the PKK exports instability.

One of the clearest reflections of this approach is the Kurdish openness toward Israel.

I spent time with Mariwan Naqshbandi, and a Christian priest, Jamal Elleddawi, both of whom had traveled to Israel as part of a delegation from Erbil. Naqshbandi, who survived the Halabja chemical attack and lost his father, spoke with disarming clarity about the event that shaped his life.

“We were collateral,” he said, explaining that the intended target had been Iranian forces. “Why would Saddam have hesitated to kill us, when he did not even hesitate to sacrifice his own Iraqi soldiers in that attack?”

Elleddawi framed engagement with the Jewish people in moral and theological terms. For him, this was not a political position but a matter of faith. Christians, he said, are called to follow God’s commandment by loving His people. Rejecting that, in his view, would contradict the very essence of Christian teaching.

What was striking, however, was not only the position of these individuals, but how unexceptional it seemed.

Throughout my stay, I was introduced openly as visiting from Israel. This did not create tension. It often had the opposite effect. Doors opened, sometimes literally. Even in situations where access was restricted, that introduction facilitated entry. In Alqosh, the Tomb of the Prophet Nahum was opened under such circumstances.

To test the limits of this openness, we played Israeli music in central Erbil, in full view of security forces. The reaction was calm; curious at times, but not confrontational.

This, too, was data.

In Lalesh, Baba Sheikh spoke about the vulnerability of the Yezidi community. Nearly 3,000 women and children remain missing. Their fate is known in broad terms, yet unresolved in practice. The gap between awareness and action remains stark.

Fewer than two weeks after my visit, the diplomatic track began to move.

At the Munich Security Conference, held between 13 and 15 February 2026, Syria’s foreign minister met with SDF representatives, including Mazlum Abdi and Ilham Ahmad. The meeting itself was not entirely surprising. What mattered was its framing and tone.

Western officials emphasized the need for inclusion and stability. Statements from U.S. and European representatives reiterated that Kurdish partners should not be sidelined after their role in the fight against ISIS. At the same time, the language used pointed toward integration rather than autonomy.

The Syrian side projected confidence. Its participation reflected a growing acceptance of its role as the central political actor within Syria’s recognized borders, even if those borders remain contested in practice.

What emerged in Munich was not a clear settlement, but a direction.

The Kurdish question is increasingly being addressed within the framework of a re-centralizing Syrian state. Rights are discussed, inclusion is emphasized, but the space for independent structures appears to be narrowing.

At the same time, another layer of nuance is becoming visible.

There are indications that this process is not only about consolidating state authority, but also about reshaping alignments. Distancing Kurdish actors from networks associated with Iran and the Axis of Resistance appears to be an implicit objective. In that sense, integration may serve more than one purpose. It may reduce fragmentation, but it may also recalibrate the region’s geopolitical balance.

For Kurdish actors, this creates a complex landscape. Engagement offers recognition, but also requires concessions. Resistance preserves leverage, but carries risk. The margin for maneuver is becoming thinner.

The speed of recent developments is notable. Within a matter of days, the conversation has moved from uncertainty on the ground to structured negotiation at the international level. The Kurdish position remains present, but it is evolving under pressure.

Iraqi Kurdistan is unique. It does not provide an automatic template to be replicated in Syria. Its trajectory is shaped by its own history and leadership. Yet it remains a relevant case. It demonstrates that coexistence can be built when it is supported by institutions, economic integration, and a degree of strategic alignment with the international system.

The broader lesson is not about choosing between models, but about recognizing that different paths lead to different outcomes.

Misreading those differences carries consequences.

Coexistence does not emerge from declarations alone. It requires structure, incentives, and leadership that can sustain it over time.