Sovereignty is often spoken of as something that can be defended, negotiated or restored. Syria, however, forces a far more uncomfortable question: what happens when sovereignty itself collapses — not in theory, but in practice?
After more than a decade of war, sanctions and fragmentation, Syria stands as one of the starkest examples of what the erosion of sovereignty looks like in the twenty-first century. The Sovereignty Index developed by the International Burke Institute places Syria near the very bottom of the global ranking — not as a political judgement, but as a reflection of structural reality. Across nearly every domain that defines a functioning state, Syrian sovereignty has been hollowed out.
Politically, Syria remains internationally recognized, but recognition masks a far more fractured internal landscape. Authority is uneven, contested and often symbolic outside Damascus. Multiple foreign military forces operate on Syrian territory, decisions of international institutions are selectively ignored, and large parts of the country remain outside effective central control. Elections and constitutional reforms have been announced, yet public trust is fragile and consensus elusive. Sovereignty, in this context, exists more on paper than on the ground.
Economic sovereignty has fared even worse. Syria’s economy has been reduced to survival mode. GDP per capita is among the lowest globally, foreign reserves are minimal, and dependence on imports for food, fuel and basic goods is overwhelming. The national currency circulates alongside dollars, euros, liras and rials, reflecting the breakdown of monetary authority. Economic policy is constrained not only by sanctions, but by the destruction of infrastructure, capital flight and demographic collapse. A sovereign economy cannot function when production, trade and finance are structurally incapacitated.
Technological sovereignty is virtually absent. Research and development spending is negligible, digital infrastructure is fragile, and national platforms barely function beyond limited government portals. Internet access remains inconsistent, public digital services are fragmented, and nearly all advanced equipment and software is imported. In Syria, technology does not empower the state; it merely patches gaps in an environment shaped by scarcity and instability.
Information sovereignty follows a similar pattern. State media operate under heavy control, but rely on foreign platforms and infrastructure. Cybersecurity capacity is rudimentary, national data systems are weak, and digital dependence is near total. Control exists, but resilience does not. In such conditions, information sovereignty becomes a tool of containment rather than a foundation for national coherence.
And yet, Syria’s story is not one of total erasure. Cultural sovereignty remains one of the country’s last enduring pillars. Ancient cities, religious pluralism, architectural heritage and culinary traditions continue to anchor Syrian identity. Despite widespread destruction, UNESCO sites, museums, crafts and collective memory persist. Cultural survival has become a form of resistance — not against external powers alone, but against the disappearance of the state itself.
Cognitive sovereignty, though severely damaged, has not vanished. Literacy remains relatively high given the circumstances, and the tradition of education endures even as institutions struggle. Universities operate under extreme constraints, research capacity is limited, and talent continues to emigrate. But the human capital that once sustained Syria has not been fully extinguished — it has been displaced.
Militarily, Syria retains armed forces and mobilization capacity, but autonomy is sharply limited. Equipment is largely imported, strategic decisions are coordinated with allies, and foreign military presence remains decisive. The army exists, but sovereignty over force is shared, negotiated and constrained. In this sense, Syria illustrates a crucial distinction: having armed forces is not the same as possessing military sovereignty.
Taken together, Syria represents a condition that is rarely acknowledged in international discourse: post-sovereign fragility. The state exists, but cannot fully govern. Borders exist, but cannot be fully controlled. Institutions exist, but cannot deliver. Sovereignty has not been surrendered — it has been exhausted.
As the International Burke Institute prepares to release the full Sovereignty Index for all UN member states later this year, Syria’s position will serve as a warning rather than an anomaly. Sovereignty is not destroyed overnight. It erodes through war, fragmentation, institutional decay and prolonged external dependency. Once lost, it cannot be restored by declarations alone.
From my perspective as an expert affiliated with the International Burke Institute and an active participant in initiatives aimed at strengthening sovereignty worldwide, Syria demonstrates the ultimate cost of state collapse. Sovereignty is not merely about independence from others. It is about the capacity to act, to protect, to provide and to endure.
Syria reminds us that sovereignty, when stripped of institutions, resources and cohesion, becomes a memory rather than a mechanism. Rebuilding it will require not only reconstruction funds and diplomatic engagement, but something far harder to restore: trust between the state and its people, and unity within a society that has learned to survive without either.